


Pacify Part 2: Steady

by Chickenpets



Series: Pacify [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst, Art, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Harry Potter, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, Lies, M/M, Mentor Severus Snape, Pacifyverse, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potions, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Top Severus Snape, Vulnerability, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 67,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickenpets/pseuds/Chickenpets
Summary: NOW WITH ART!Steady:1. Not easily disturbed or upset2. Constant in feeling, principle, purpose, or attachment“Why does it even matter if people get suspicious?” Harry lay back and stretched, and Severus watched him do it. He was almost cat-like, with an unselfconscious grace that took him off guard each time he saw it. It was how he looked on a broomstick. The absolute master of his body. Harry looked over at him staring, and smiled.Oh, that smile.Unguarded. Uncomplicated. Free, and easy. It made Severus feel drunk with power to put an expression like that on his face. He lifted one of Harry’s hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles.I love you,he thought. It was becoming almost routine, thinking that.I love you.Almost normal. Almost tolerable to hold in his mind, now.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Pacify [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595650
Comments: 631
Kudos: 1674





	1. Potions Prodigy

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Pacify Часть 2: Опора](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900894) by [Mortiferum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortiferum/pseuds/Mortiferum)



> Pacify One-shots and Au's  
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786204
> 
> Pacify Playlist:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0rf51eMOz60O5WLQLlJJ40?si=lumjtZAaQLCYUBQJmwzVBw
> 
> Pacify Doodles:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/chickenpets

Severus awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and an empty bed. Potter was gone, and so was his cloak. 

“Are you alright?” he said to his bracelet. No response. Perhaps the boy had fallen back asleep. He’d have to send up a restorative. Surely Potter would want one. He hadn’t handled his alcohol all that well, which Severus probably would have anticipated if he’d thought it through a little more. Or at all. 

He fixed himself tea and sipped it slowly, and then tried one more time. 

“Potter?” 

Nothing. Yes, he must be sleeping. Good.

Severus spent the morning putting together some new memories for the Dark Lord. Now that Potter had tipped his hand, he needed to do it, and now was as good a time as any. He sat quietly at the table, wand in hand, and closed his eyes. He deepened and slowed his breathing. His heart rate fell. Then, calm and focused, he turned his awareness inward. He began shuffling through his own mind, categorizing, moving images around, and pulling out those he intended to modify. He began to trim them down, to mix them, and then to stitch them together into new combinations. This was where his true talent lay. Not in the hiding, but in the lying.

He took the memory of Harry getting knocked flat as he tried and failed to repel Severus’ curses, and duplicated it, made him fall five times, ten times. He erased all of his successes. He focused on Potter’s face, looking up at him from the floor, full of uncertainty, and added to it the abject fear he’d worn on the ground in Severus’ bedroom. He took his words and twisted them. He changed ‘ _I don’t think this will work,'_ and ‘ _with Malfoy it was so easy,’_ into ‘ _I can’t do this. With Malfoy it was just a fluke.’_ He added in, ‘ _I don’t know how I did it,’_ and, ‘ _my nose was bleeding, after.’_

He thought for a while. Voldemort had told him to destabilize Potter. Would it be smarter to cut everything else out, or to show him just a little? Potter in his bed, maybe. Or Potter asking, ‘ _Are you going to hurt me?’_

Maybe the fingernail marks on his back. 

What would it do to him, Severus wondered, if the Deatheaters knew? If they thought Severus was fucking him. Had raped him, maybe. If he allowed Voldemort to see him on his back, begging. What would it do to him?

He cut all of it out. Something else. Make him seem weak, but not like that.

‘ _I’m supposed to be the chosen one. But I’m just me.’_ That was perfect. He embellished it. ‘ _I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.’_ No, Potter would never say that. ‘ _I don’t know how I’m supposed to fight him.’_ Better. He left in the alcohol. The Dark Lord would probably like the idea that Severus was liquoring him up, to weasel into his confidences. What then? The meltdown. ‘ _I didn’t mean to say all that.’_ And the tears. 

He added in a few memories of Potter looking terrible, and sleep deprived. There were many to choose from. The boy sitting at the Gryffindor table, his face colorless, surrounded by his friends and looking absolutely alone. There. Unstable Potter, for the Dark Lord’s viewing pleasure.

No need for any of them to see his skin, or his smile, or how he looked just when he’d woken up. No need for any of them to ever know what he was capable of. Not until it was too late.

Severus took a shower, and shaved, and then sent a note to Dumbledore requesting a meeting. He did not receive a response, but it was probably for the best. If Severus could meet with him today, he might lose his temper. 

Malfoy, then. That was who he had to see. The newest recruit, single-handedly trying to behead the entire order. Little bastard.

***

Harry managed to sneak back into his four-poster underneath his invisibility cloak before the sun came up. He was pretty sure he had gotten away with it, too, until the other boys began shifting around some time around seven, and Ron yanked back his hangings. 

“Harry, Merlin,” he gasped. “You went to Snape’s detention and you never came back!” Seamus and Dean’s faces appeared behind him, and then Neville’s too. Harry stared back at the four of them, paralyzed. “What in bloody hell happened?”

“I - uh,” Harry stammered. “Uh - ” He had a splitting headache and his mouth felt like it was lined in cotton. He was not prepared for this. 

“Are you ok?” Ron’s eyes were searching his face. “Mate, you scared us.”

“I just - I fell asleep,” Harry offered.

“In detention?”

“Yeah, I - ” Just then his bracelet warmed. He ignored it. “I have - uh, special training. It makes me really tired. Sometimes I can’t make it back.” Dean and Seamus looked at eachother. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” 

Ron looked back at the other boys. “Can you go downstairs please,” he said. “I want to talk to Harry alone.”

“Mate, we’re all friends, aren’t we?” Seamus protested.

“Yeah,” Neville piped up. “We were all worried!”

“Go. Downstairs,” Ron repeated. He sounded a little like his mother.

“Fine,” Dean said, and grabbed Seamus’ arm. “C’mon let’s go.” 

Neville watched them leave, and hesitated. “Is everything ok?” he asked, turning back to Harry and giving him a small, cautious smile.

“Yeah,” Harry answered him. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine, Neville. You can go.”

Ron just looked at him until the dormitory was empty. Then, he said, “I’m your best mate, Harry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s really complicated.” Harry rubbed his eyes. He felt absolutely skinless just now. Raw, naked, and so, so tired. “And it’s really early. Can’t we talk about this later?” Ron sat on the edge of his bed and crossed his arms.

“You won’t talk about it later. Where have you been sleeping?” 

“Dumbledore made me a room in the dungeons. I stayed there for the end of the summer, after I got hurt. So Snape could watch me.”

“So Snape could watch you.”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “In case I got sick again.”

“And what about at Headquarters? Before you got hurt? You never told me what happened that night. When you weren’t in your bed I - ” he stopped, and picked at his nails. “I panicked. And I never got to talk to you after. Not really.” He took a breath, as if steeling himself. “Lupin said he found you in Snape’s bed.” 

_Oh, god, I can’t do this_.

“I was,” Harry answered. “But not like - ” _Not like what?_ Whatever Ron was afraid of, the reality was surely far worse than he could even imagine. Ron just looked at him, waiting for him to finish. “He just - helps me to sleep. I have nightmares, you know that. You’ve heard me.”

“Right before they took you to the hospital wing, I helped him get your things. He was covered in blood. And he was really upset. You’re telling me he’s just been giving you potions to help you sleep? And that’s all?” Harry’s bracelet warmed again, under his sleeve. He fought back the urge to look at it. 

“Yeah.”

“Harry, c’mon.”

“What? What do you want me to say?” 

Ron just looked at him for a long moment. “I’m worried about you,” he said. 

“What a surprise,” Harry answered. “Everyone is worried about me.”

“Well, yeah. You’re the Chosen One.” Ron gave him a small smile. He didn’t return it. “Hermione is worried too.”

“Like I said. Everyone.”

“Yeah.” The silence between them was long. Then, finally, Ron broke it. “If you needed help, you’d tell us, right?” Harry tried to muster a smile for him. He was afraid it came out more like a grimace of pain.

“Yeah,” he said, and looked at the bedspread. “Just like at the Ministry. You’re my best friend.” Another long pause.

“What do you want me to tell the others?” Harry looked back up at him, startled. What was he offering? To lie?

“Tell them - ” This was more than he could have hoped for. “Tell them Dumbledore is training me down there. Special stuff. Advanced. That it’s secret. And that - it isn’t Snape. Will you tell them that?” 

“Yeah,” Ron answered, and ran his hand through his hair. “Sure. I’ll tell them you’re in the dungeons because it’s safer down there. Away from the other students.” Harry stared at him. “And that they shouldn’t talk about it. Or try to ask you.” 

It was more than he could have hoped for, for Ron to be willing to lie for him. For Ron to know that Harry wasn’t telling him the truth, and to still - to still want to help. “I thought - you’d hate me,” Harry said in a rush, and embraced him. After a moment, Ron’s arms came up around him, too, a little awkwardly.

“Hey, Harry, never.” 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. It felt like he’d cried more this year than the rest of his life combined, and he didn’t want to do it anymore. 

“Thank you,” he said.

***

Draco declined to come to Severus’ office, which was not a good sign. And Severus had rather expected Draco to come to him first, either about what Potter had done, or about the death sentence the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him, but he had done neither. And now he was refusing an invitation to confide in his head of house, and a senior Deatheater to boot. Not good. 

What could he be thinking, trying to do this by himself? What could he be planning? He would have to give the boy detention. And, failing that, he would have to corner him. Or scare it out of him.

Alone in his office, Severus tapped his foot, and then touched his wand to his wrist. “Potter,” he said. Surely Harry was awake by now, it was nearly noon. 

_[Sir]_ appeared, glistening, on the silver surface. 

“How are you feeling?”

_[I have a headache]_

“I’m sure. Shall I send you a restorative?”

 _[If you want]_ And then: _[I’ve never had a hangover before]_

Severus ignored that. “Where are you now?”

_[I’m about to go down to lunch]_

“I’ll have it sent to your room.”

 _[Thank you]_ Then: _[Sorry. About last night]_ Severus didn’t speak. _[I didn’t mean]_ A long pause. Severus waited a moment more and then took pity on him.

“To knock my glass off the sofa? I know. I tidied up after you.”

 _[Thanks]_ appeared by itself after a few moments. Then: _[Maybe something lighter next time. So I don’t make a mess]_

“You’re like a tornado.”

Severus looked out the window. His new office as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher looked out over the grounds, straight out at the Quidditch pitch. He could see a team practicing out there right now. Ravenclaw, maybe. Certainly it wasn’t Gryffindor, with Potter talking to him, and it wasn’t on the Slytherin schedule. He might be able to see bits of Potter flying from here, if he wanted. He should ask when the practices were. 

He didn’t ask.

Stupid idea.

Embarrassing.

***

As the occupants of the castle settled into the routine of the school year, Severus began to get used to having this new Potter as a pupil. Every single Defense class was still torture, of course, as Harry excelled, and excelled, and excelled, but he could get through it. He told himself that his fit of emotion had been a moment of madness. He’d been touched by Potter confiding in him, that was all. He’d been drinking. It didn’t mean anything. 

In their private lessons, the boy had moved on from shield charms to conjuring, and had gradually learned to produce various objects out of thin air with no wand, and no ill effects.

The first time he tried, Severus directed him to produce a wooden ball, and he had done it beautifully. “Excellent,” Severus said, and Potter smiled at him, and then collapsed, straight to the floor with no warning. Severus hadn’t been fast enough to catch him.

The second time, Harry produced a wooden ball and had not collapsed. The third time, he created a little stone snake, which Severus had not asked for. 

“Look,” he said. “It matches your sconces.” 

He was so fucking charming. It was awful. 

Severus kept the snake.

He tried very hard not to give Harry any attention during class, which was frankly impossible, as he was far and away the best in the year. He was fast, and inventive, and powerful, and Severus had to talk himself out of cornering him after _every single period._ He was used to Potter being lazy, inattentive, and prone to stupid mistakes. But that was just potions. Here, he was in his element, and the other students looked to him for help and inspiration. The other students looked _at_ him. A lot. Stared at him, really. He was radiant. He was like a shining star.

Severus did his best to be dismissive, to nitpick, to tear Potter’s magic down, but often all he could manage was a curt nod. Potter always reacted to this as the highest praise, which, he supposed, it was. Later, when they were alone, he could say what he meant.

“You’ve surpassed the material, Potter.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that there’s nothing to teach you at all in the curriculum for 6th year.”

“Oh. I - thanks.”

“It’s not a compliment, it’s just a fact.”

“I rescind my thanks, then.” He grinned. “What will you teach me instead?” More conjuring, charms, and jinxes. No wand, no words, and no fainting. Well, a little fainting, at first. No bleeding, though.

*** 

Harry found that each time he moved on to a new type of wandless magic, it exhausted him all over again. That, plus Quidditch, plus the intense sixth year course load, left him with very little energy to bother Snape with at the end of the day. Not in person, at least. Plus, he was a little bit embarrassed about his outburst in Snape’s rooms the last time. 

Well, maybe he was very embarrassed. Even humiliated.

He could still talk to him at night, though, through the bracelets, which made him feel a little less alone. Closed up in his hangings, he didn’t have to look at Snape’s face, either. And if he wanted to stop talking, he could just stop, and read his book instead. His copy of Advanced Potions Making continued to enthrall him, and he continued to find more little bits of magic and hilarity inside of it, even though he’d already read it through twice. It was almost like it was his friend, keeping him company while he couldn’t sleep.

After a while, Harry discovered that he didn’t actually need to speak out loud to make the bracelets work. He didn’t need his wand either, as it turned out. All he had to do was touch the silver with his finger and think the words very clearly, and Snape would respond as if he’d spoken. That way, he didn’t have to worry about the other boys hearing him. And Snape almost always answered, even though he wasn’t always nice about it.

 _Are you sleeping?_ Harry might think, and the response would appear on his arm. 

_[No]_ or _[not anymore]_ or _[it’s the middle of the night, Potter]_

Sometimes Snape would send him up a single-dose bottle of dreamless sleep, and sometimes he would just talk for a while, until Harry drifted off. 

Then, slowly, as the days slipped past, and it became clear that Severus was not treating him differently after what he’d said, Harry began to lose his embarrassment. He began to talk more freely through the bracelets, and still Snape gave him no pity. Snape did not try to console him. He was just the same. It was almost as if when he’d offered to forget what Harry had said, he had actually forgotten it. And so, gradually, the urge to provoke returned. Harry began to want to get a rise out of Snape. To annoy him, and to make him mad, if he could. Just like in Number 12. And after all that had happened between them, this urge was very strong. 

Usually it didn’t work. If Severus suspected him, he would refuse to answer. _My bruises are gone_ was ignored. _Remember when you almost hit me_ was ignored. _Your class is too easy_ was ignored. And so was _I had a dream about you,_ even though it was true _._ Harry was having a lot of dreams.

At first, he dreamt in vague blurs of color and sensation. Hands, fragrant water, body weight, and the slide of skin on skin. Over time, though, as Snape continued to talk to him at night, his dreams began to sharpen to a point. He dreamt of sheets under his hands. He dreamt of pressing his face into the hard wooden surface of a table. He dreamt of being thrown to the ground. Of being held against the wall. He dreamt about Snape’s body, which he had never seen, and his long-fingered hands, which he saw every day. He dreamt of hair pulling, biting, scratching, and a bruising grip. He dreamt of Snape’s mouth, and his eyes, and his fiery temper.

It was better than the nightmares, he had to admit. Even though he woke up almost every morning in a state of advanced and painful frustration, it was better. 

Severus never responded to _I had a dream about you._

Then, one night, about a month after he’d last spent the night in the dungeons, he had a dream that Snape came into his dormitory, and stripped him naked, and held his hands to the bed, and _fucked him,_ right there in Gryffindor tower. It was so vivid that he’d woken up with a start just in time to come in his pants, and had needed to press his face hard into the pillow to stay quiet. And afterwards, he lay there, panting and shaking, his body tingling with the sense memory of a touch that he had never felt. And he decided right then that he couldn’t take any more of this. He would have to make Snape listen. 

_I’m dreaming about you. It’s driving me mad. I can’t stand it._

Snape was going to listen.

***

He decided to wait until dinner to try. Severus couldn’t hide while he was up there, sitting at the high table. He couldn’t just not respond and pretend he hadn’t seen. Harry would be able to see if he was looking at his bracelet or not. And he’d be able to see his expression.

Harry settled himself at the Gryffindor table so that he could easily see Snape’s chair at the left hand of the Headmaster. Snape didn’t look at him, but then, he usually didn’t during meals. At least not when Harry could see. He waited until the whole hall was eating busily before touching one finger to his cuff under the table. 

_I had a dream about you last night_ , he thought, and then looked up at the staff table and waited. After a moment, Snape put his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Harry saw his brow furrow, and then he looked back up, and his black eyes sought Harry out in the crowd. They moved over his face. Snape didn’t know he could use the bracelets without speaking, of course. And certainly Snape couldn’t answer him in the same way. Or at all, just now. Harry held his gaze and gave him a small smile. Severus glared back at him as if to say: _Don’t you dare._

Harry pressed his finger back to the silver.

_I dreamt that you came into my room._

Severus looked back into his lap and his eyes widened minutely. 

_You fucked me right in my four-poster._

His lips parted.

_When I woke up I’d made a mess of myself._

Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Snape blush before, but he was blushing now. He didn’t look back up, but stayed staring resolutely into his lap, as if trying to hide his face with his hair. 

_I was afraid I’d made a noise._ Harry continued. _Or said your name. It was so good I couldn’t believe I’d been quiet, but no one noticed._

Snape stood up so fast that he almost startled McGonagall out of her chair. He said something to her and gathered his robes around himself, and swept out of the hall. Harry pulled down his sleeve and finished his dinner. Let him pretend he didn’t know what Harry was going through, now, if he really wanted to. 

After dinner, he did homework with Ron and Hermione for a while, and then retired. He brushed his teeth, and changed into his pajamas, and still Snape did not send anything to him. Then, Harry drew back his hangings, and almost burst out laughing. In the center of his bed sat an entire case of single-dose bottles of Dreamless Sleep. There must have been thirty or forty of them, all corked and labeled neatly in Severus’ fine handwriting. Harry touched his wrist.

_Very funny._

There was no response. He took out one of the little bottles and stowed the rest under his bed, and then closed himself in the hangings. He turned the bottle over and over in his hands, waiting. When nothing was forthcoming, he touched the cuff one more time.

 _Anything to say to me before I enter the abyss?_ he thought.

Nothing for a moment and then:

_[You’re a menace]_

***

So, Potter could use the cuffs without speaking and without using his wand, and this is what he did with them. Severus poured himself a generous glass of wine and drained it. _I’d made a mess of myself,_ indeed. He hurled the empty goblet into the fire, and then immediately regretted it. He left the shards in the hearth and got up for a replacement. 

He’d been so proud of his self control. He’d been getting through all of his classes alright, and even the private lessons. He hadn’t laid a finger on the boy for _weeks._ Potter was doing well. He was doing his homework. He was playing Quidditch. He seemed to be sleeping. He _was_ sleeping. And dreaming. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. Blasted bracelets. 

He fondled the little serpent Potter had conjured for him. 

He imagined what sort of noises Potter might have made in his sleep. And then he very firmly stopped imagining that.

He resolved not to change his behavior at all. It didn’t matter that Potter was a wild ball of adolescent hormones. Severus was a grown man, and he didn’t have to play games if he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to play games.

He didn’t.

***

A few days passed without incident, before Harry sent him two words at the end of Defense class.

_[Slughorn. Saturday]_

Severus read this and looked over. The other students were still scratching busily at their parchment, but Harry was gazing right back at him. Severus raised an eyebrow, and Harry pointed his wand at the collection of white chalk at the front of the room. It exploded. Apparently he wanted detention. 

“POTTER!” Severus barked, white dust settling over the entire class like volcanic ash. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Whoops,” Harry answered, “Sorry, Sir. I slipped.” 

“Detention,” he hissed, brushing clouds of powder off of himself and onto the floor. “Saturday. 8:00. My office.” 

The class thought it was funny. Little cretins.

Then, later, when he was alone, Severus made a very grave mistake, though he didn’t know it at the time. He touched his wand to the surface of his bracelet and said, “bring something to read for your detention.” Harmless. Responsible, even. 

And Severus had been so close to convincing himself that he felt nothing.

What a fucking mistake.

***

Saturday, Potter appeared in his office at 8:00, punctual as you please. 

“Hi,” he said.

“Potter,” Severus replied.

“I brought my book,” Harry said.

“Good. Read, then. I have papers to grade.”

“How is mine?”

Severus didn’t answer, because the answer was, ‘perfect,’ and he couldn’t very well say that, could he? Harry settled into a chair, and Snape tried very hard to focus on his work. He could see Potter out of the corner of his eye, staring intently at his book, turning it this way and that, squinting, and furrowing his brow. After a while, Harry picked it up to turn it over, and Severus saw that it was a copy of Advanced Potions Making. The 6th year potions text. 

“Have you developed an interest in Potions after all?” he asked. It was almost ten, and the boy hadn’t tried to get his attention once. 

“What?” Harry looked at him over the edge of the book.

“Based on your academic record, I wouldn’t have thought you capable of being so engrossed in your Potions homework.” Harry closed it and smoothed the cover down.

“It isn’t homework,” he said. “It isn’t a regular book. Professor Slughorn gave it to me on my first day because I didn’t have any supplies. It’s used, I guess, and whoever had it before wrote in the margins. It’s pretty interesting.”

Severus felt a prickle of unease. 

“Where did he find it?” he asked.

“Just in a cupboard.”

“What sort of things are written in the margins?”

“All kinds of stuff. TONS of corrections, notes, spells, some funny insults and stuff like that. I don’t think the Prince thought much of the authors.”

The Prince.

“May I see it?” Severus asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Sure,” Harry said. “I was going to show it to you, actually. In case you know whose it was. It’s been driving me crazy.” He got up, walked to Severus’ desk, and held it out. Severus took the book from him, and opened it to a random page. He looked down at his own slanted handwriting, crowded into the margins. “I’ve been reading it at night, when I can’t sleep. And when I can’t come to see you. It helps, sometimes, to make it through till morning.”

Potter had been reading the mad musings of his teenage self, at night, alone in his bed, when Severus didn’t allow him to come to the dungeons. No. Surely not. It was impossible.

“Potter,” he began, and stopped. He looked up at the boy, who was still looking at the book. “My mother - ” He covered his mouth. How to say it? “My mother was a witch. She married a muggle.” Finally, Harry’s eyes flicked up. “Her name was Eileen Prince.”

The look on his face was so confused it was almost fear.

“You - ” he began. “I thought you were pure-blood.”

“No,” Severus replied. “Half-blood.”

“But - ” He snatched back the book and turned it to it’s publication page. He pointed to the date. “It’s almost fifty years old!” Severus took his hand and pulled it away from the paper.

“I was poor,” he said. 

“You’re kidding me. You have to be.” 

“I’m not,” Severus said.

“Surely everything can’t be about you,” Harry said, sounding almost desperate. “Come on. You can’t be serious. He can’t be _you._ ”

“ _Muffliato_ ,” Severus said. “ _Langlock._ _Levicorpus_.”

“ _Sectumsempra_ ,” Harry whispered. 

“For enemies,” Severus said. Harry’s eyes searched his face, and he moved around the desk to stand in front of him. He looked down at his textbook in Severus’ hands, and then at the papers he’d been grading. His pointed, elegant script, here in black, and there in red. Harry flipped to a marked page and pointed down at it. 

“I’ve been reading this at night to distract myself from you,” he said. “And it’s your handwriting.” 

“Yes, it’s mine. This isn’t the original binding, though.”

“No, I,” he almost laughed. “I didn’t want to give it back when I bought a new copy so I - switched the covers. So I could keep it.” He was staring down at the pages, like he was hoping they would speak. “I thought - ” he stopped, and touched the paper with his fingertips. “I thought he was a genius. Famous, maybe.”

“No,” Severus said. “Just a boy.”

“Hermione said - that this was dark magic. Were you already a Deatheater when you did this?” He’d almost been a Deatheater, then, but not quite.

“Just a boy,” Severus repeated. 

“It’s you,” Harry whispered.

“Yes.”

Harry looked up at him, and the expression on his face took Severus’ breath away. It felt like something was breaking inside him, being looked at like that. 

“You.” 

Severus kissed him, then, absolutely unable to stop himself. He locked and warded the door. He drew the shades. He unhooked Potter’s robes and dropped them on the floor. He swept everything off of his desk, and pushed him down onto it. He undid Harry’s trousers, and pulled them down just enough to get his mouth on him. Harry grabbed his hair, tight, with both hands. He hooked his legs over his shoulders. He made sounds that Severus had never heard before.

He lasted a bit longer than the first time.

It was _better_ than the first time. 

Bring something to read? 

God.

Were there no right choices?

It wasn’t until later, while Severus was cleaning up his books and papers, and his shattered inkwell, that it occurred to him that this might be how Potter was impressing Horace. By using his old book. A Potions prodigy, conjured out of thin air. It was almost funny.

***

Harry staggered back to his dormitory in a daze after that encounter, not even aware of where his feet were taking him until he was confronted with the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

“Oh,” he said. “Uh, Waffle - waffle - something.”

“No good, dear,” the Fat Lady answered him. Shit. What time was it? He pressed his fingers into his temples like he could drill the answer out of his skull. _Password. Password. What is the password._

Just then, a pair of girls appeared down the corridor. They stopped short at the sight of him, and one of them giggled nervously. The other walked right up to him.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she said. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry answered. 

“I’m Romilda. Romilda Vane.” She offered her hand and Harry shook it. The other girl tittered uncomfortably behind her. “Forgotten the password, have you?” Romilda asked. 

“I - yeah.”

“Wiffle-waffle,” she said to the Fat Lady, who swung open to admit them. As the girls went through ahead of him, Romilda looked back over her shoulder at him in a saucy sort of way. Harry stared after her, alarmed.

What kind of look was that?


	2. The Crossroads

The next weekend was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Severus had advised the Headmaster against it, but was overruled. And lo and behold, what had happened? A student was was almost murdered.

It was Potter who alerted him. Somehow it always was. 

Severus had been minding his own business in his office, grading and working on his 3rd year lesson plans, when his wrist warmed. He’d almost ignored it, assuming it was more of Potter’s nonsense, but he looked anyway, just in case. 

_[Emergency in the grounds]_ it said. _[Katie Bell. Please come]_

“Call,” Severus answered, and when the bracelet got hot, “ _Chimera.”_

He appeared beside Potter in the snow, his face immediately stung raw by the driven sleet. He didn’t have a cloak or gloves or a scarf. A bad day to be out.

“Where is she?” he shouted over the wind. Harry pointed, and they ran together, back to where the girl was writhing on the ground. Potter had the sense to get the necklace, wrapped in his scarf, as Severus took her back to the castle. Potter’s friends took the other girl. She’d been quite hysterical.

Severus spent ten hours trying to save Miss Bell, and, in the end, barely managed it. If a single millimeter more skin had touched the thing, she would have been dead. Severus was sure the necklace had been meant for the Headmaster, and Albus wasn’t even at the school that day. It was a feeble, reckless attempt on his life, and all the more dangerous for that. Anyone could have touched it. Potter could have picked it up. And then what? What would any of them have done then? 

When he’d finally stabilized her, she was transferred to St. Mungos, and Severus retreated to his rooms and took a long shower. He was sweaty and exhausted, and his magic felt depleted, like it had been drained right out through his wand. He sent for some wine from the kitchens. He hadn’t eaten, but he didn’t think he could manage it just then. What he really needed was sleep.

When the bottle appeared, a bordeaux, he poured himself a glass and sat on Harry’s sofa. He didn’t really think through what he did next. He just touched his wand to his bracelet and asked:

“Are you awake?”

 _[Yes]_ appeared almost immediately.

“Do you want to come down?” 

_[Yes. Please call]_

So, Severus poured a glass for him, and called him, and Harry appeared on the rug in his nightclothes.

“Did anyone see you go?” Severus asked.

“I don’t think so. It’s late.” He sat on the edge of the couch, and took the goblet Severus offered him. It was true. It was past one in the morning. The Potter Hour.

“Is Katie ok?” Harry asked, taking a sip. 

“She’s alive,” Severus said. “I did my best to save her.”

“Where is she now? St. Mungos?”

“Yes. She’s only just been taken.” Harry was silent for a moment.

“What happened?” he asked. 

_Draco Malfoy almost killed her trying to get to the Headmaster. Violent, reckless, unforgivable stupidity. Albus would have felt the curse on that pendant from a hundred meters away._ He couldn’t say that, and so he said nothing. 

“Someone gave that necklace to her, to bring to the school,” Harry continued. “And I don’t think it was for me.”

“No, it wasn’t for you,” Severus answered. “But you could have touched it.”

“Yeah. Could have.” He drank again, and so did Severus. “I’ve seen that necklace before,” he said after a moment. “In Borgin and Burkes. Years ago. I was in there spying on Malfoy.” Severus’ heart squeezed in his chest. His intuition couldn’t be so strong. He wasn’t a _seer_ , not along with everything else. He must just be thinking out loud.

“Plenty of wizards patronize Borgin and Burkes.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just remembered it. The sign said it had killed nineteen muggles. Gross thing to keep in a shop.”

“Borgin and Burkes trades almost exclusively in artifacts that are, as you say, ‘gross.’”

Harry took another sip. “This is good,” he said. Severus nodded and looked into the fire. They sat in silence for a while, before Harry spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, crossing his legs on the cushions. He wasn’t wearing shoes, Severus noticed. Just his socks.

“Might as well,” Severus answered, and took a swallow of wine that was almost too big. Then he nearly choked on it.

“Can I kiss you?”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “What?” he asked. Harry took off his glasses, folded them neatly, and put them on the floor with his wine.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again. Severus was paralyzed. _No,_ he thought. _Tell him no._ But nothing came out of his mouth, not a single goddamn word, as Harry shifted towards him. When he’d moved close enough to pluck Severus’ wine out of his hand, he did.

“Potter,” Severus managed to say at last, watching helplessly as Harry set his glass carefully out of the way. “What are you doing?” 

“Just don’t stop me,” he said, and turned to face him. “That’s all.” 

It sounded so simple. And it was so simple, as Harry’s hand slid behind his neck to pull him forward. His kiss was soft, and warm, and his fingers pressed against the back of Severus’ neck, as if asking him to open his mouth. He tried to resist this impulse, but failed almost immediately as Harry tilted his head with a small hum of encouragement. And opening his mouth to this kiss felt absolutely inevitable once he allowed himself to do it. He swallowed down the sounds Harry made, and tried not to hear them, or let them into his mind. Was it a sigh? A whine? A whimper? Did he want to stop? Did he want more? Should he stop? Should Severus stop? 

Harry’s hands moved hesitantly over his shoulders, and to his chest, and then all at once he was in Severus’ lap. He should stop. Severus should make him stop. Should slap his hands away. All of these stolen moments were just that: Stolen. Carved out of Potter’s youth. He pushed on Harry’s shoulders until he had space to take a breath. 

“ _No,_ ” Harry said at once. “C’mon, don’t do that. _Don’t._ ”

“Potter,” Severus said again, his voice rough and weak. And then, “Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “That’s who I am.” He turned his head and brushed his lips against the back of Severus’ hand on his shoulder. He breathed against his skin, and kissed his knuckles, and when he leaned back in, Severus wanted to stop him, but he just … didn’t.

He was gentle, coaxing, as he kissed Severus’ lips, and then the corner of his mouth, and his cheek. “Please, let me,” he whispered, and moved his hands between them to Severus’ belt. “Let me have this, just this.” Severus grabbed his wrists.

“No,” he said. “You can’t. I’m too - ” _Dangerous._

“It’s alright,” Harry said. 

“It isn’t,” Severus answered, and turned his face away.

“When, then?” the boy asked, kissing the edge of his jaw, his throat, and the side of his neck. He stayed like that, his face pressed into Severus’ skin as he continued to speak. “Tell me when.” Severus stared up at the ceiling. Harry’s weight in his lap was so sweet. And even the feeling of his wrists held in Severus’ hands - like touching treasure. 

“When you graduate,” he said. That was fair, wasn’t it? Not never. Harry exhaled slowly, and then pulled back just enough to look into his face. 

“You and I both know I’m never going to graduate,” he said. 

Severus closed his eyes, trying to summon the willpower to push him off. This was so sick. Everything was so, irreparably _fucked_.

“You might,” he said, and felt Potter’s breath against his lips. 

“Sure,” Harry answered in the millimeter between them, “I might.” Harry kissed him again, and Severus’ grip on his arms weakened, just like Severus himself was weak, letting Harry’s hands slip through his fingers. “That’s good. Just let me. Just let me.” Severus was just so tired _._ He couldn’t fight anymore, not tonight. And certainly he couldn’t argue with Potter now. He could have died _today._ He could have died that very afternoon.

Harry’s hands returned to his belt and unbuckled it. His fingers moved to Severus’ buttons, and freed them, and then slid inside his clothes. “ _Oh,_ ” he murmured with a slow exhale, feeling him with his fingers and the palm of his hand - feeling the length and girth and hardness of him. 

Touching him, and making that sound. 

Severus thought that no one had the right to make a sound like that while touching his skin. Not _him_ , dreaded Deatheater, murderous spy, scourge of Hogwarts school. 

“Let me,” Harry said again, and slipped off the edge of the sofa and to his knees. Severus almost didn’t dare look at him down there. He almost couldn’t bear it. But he did look, and in the firelight, the tips of Potter’s hair glowed like embers. Harry turned his face into Severus’ inner thigh, against his slacks, and breathed deeply. His eyes, painfully green, like a clover field damp in the summer sun, looked up at him.

And that was it, right then. That was the end of trying to pretend.

“Tell me if I do it wrong,” he said. 

He coaxed Severus free from his underclothes and then brushed his lips tentatively against his shaft, feeling the texture of his skin. Severus twitched reflexively, and a bead of pre-cum welled up at once. When Harry licked it off, Severus’ breath seized in his chest, and he did it again, and then swirled his tongue around the head, and closed his lips around it. 

Severus, his hand unsteady, reached out to push Potter’s hair out of his eyes. He cupped his cheek, brushing his fingertips against the edge of his jaw. 

“I’m not supposed to - have you,” he breathed, but Harry didn’t seem to hear him. He’d closed his eyes, splaying his fingers across Severus’ thighs as he opened his mouth wider.

He was inexperienced, almost clumsy, and it was all Severus could do to try to stay still. He sank his mouth down, about half way, and then back up to the tip, and back down again, a little deeper. Working Severus slowly into his mouth. Cautious. Exploring him. His hands moved down to curl around the base to hold him steady. 

The first time Severus’ cock touched the back of his throat, he choked and jerked back. The second time, Severus could feel him fighting to keep from coughing, his throat contracting, and a little involuntary noise came out of him. Severus’s hands moved reflexively to the back of his head as he heard it, and his hips flexed up before he could stop them. Harry pulled off again, sucking in a wet gasp. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Severus said, forcing his hands back to the edge of the couch and digging his fingers in. Harry’s mouth was glistening, and his eyelashes were damp. He didn’t say anything, just took Severus’ hands and put them back on his head, and sank back down. 

_Fuck, oh fuck_. 

Had he said that out loud?

Harry moaned low in his throat, as Severus’ fingers slid against his scalp, holding his head in place. Severus felt him shifting around, heard a rustling noise as Harry reached inside his nightclothes. Touching himself. 

“Harry, _god - ”_ That had definitely been out loud. Severus gripped his hair harder, holding him still, and flexed his hips up again, thrusting into his mouth. Harry was breathing hard through his nose, when he could, and he moaned again, louder, and lower. And Harry was working his fist up and down, his other hand clutching at Severus’ clothes. Was he going to get himself off like that, with Severus’ cock in his mouth? Lord in heaven, who was this boy? “ _You’re - fucking - perfect,_ ” Severus gasped, tightening his fingers in Potter’s hair, pressing himself into that unreal wet heat. He wanted to be gentle, was trying hard not to hurt him, but Harry didn’t try to back away anymore. Severus could feel him struggling to stay down, to take it. Wanting to please him. And jerking himself off down there, on his knees.

A terrible little whimper came out of him, and Severus angled his head to try to see what he was doing. It was mostly hidden by his clothes, but Severus could just see the pink head of his prick peeking out of his fist on each downstroke as his hand moved faster. 

“ _Harry_ ,” he said again, deep and low - almost a rumble - and Harry’s free hand clamped down hard on his hip. Severus realized that he liked that. He liked hearing his name. “ _Harry_ , fuck - ” Potter swallowed convulsively, making an obscenely wet noise around Severus’ flesh. Was he close? He sounded so close.

Severus fisted his hand hard in his hair, pulling it, and with the other cupped the back of his neck.

“I want - every - part of you,” he growled. Harry’s throat worked and he yelped shallowly. It was choked off as the head of Severus’ cock closed his airway. “I’ve been losing my mind, having you in my classes. Wanting you,” his hips jerked, and Harry’s hand twisted frantically. “Wanting to kill anyone that dares to _look_ at you.” Harry’s eyes squeezed tight shut and he curled forward suddenly. “Anyone that tries to fucking _touch you.”_

Severus saw him start to come, spilling over his fingers, and the sight absolutely undid him. “Merlin, _oh,_ ” Severus gasped, and tried to pull him off. “Stop - I’m - going to - ”

Harry’s hand came up and seized his wrist, refusing to be moved. He swallowed again, like a vice, and it was too late. Severus couldn’t stop, and he reversed direction, holding Harry’s head down and thrusting once, twice, and then shooting down his throat. Harry’s hands tightened, clutching at him hard, his nails digging in, fighting his gag reflex, fighting his need for air, as Severus’ orgasm was ripped out of him. 

He tried to let go as soon as possible, but even so, when Severus’ fingers finally unlocked, Harry jerked his head back with a desperate gasp, almost strangling on his own breath as he tried to suck in too much air at once. 

“ _Jesus_ , _”_ he choked out. His voice was rough and he swallowed hard to clear it, pressing his face into Snape’s thigh. He said it again, more softly. “ _Jesus._ ” Severus stroked his fingers against his hair, gentle now, tentative, just touching him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, breathless. Harry’s arms came up around his legs.

“Yeah,” he murmured back. “I’m just - seeing some - sparkles.” He giggled weakly, and then swallowed again.

 _I’ll never be able to look at him again without thinking of this_ , Severus thought. 

“Come here,” he said, and tugged Harry back up from the floor. He shifted himself on the sofa, and leaned back into the cushions, pulling the boy into his arms. He was almost limp, like trying to maneuver warm taffy, and like warm taffy, he melted at once against Severus’ chest. 

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled. Severus smoothed his hands over his back, and the nape of his neck, and his hair. “S’good.” 

He fell asleep like that, draped over Severus’ chest, almost immediately, and Severus was left, feeling his heartbeat, the weight of his body, and looking at the ceiling.

 _What did I say?_ he thought. _What did I say to him?_

***

“Hey.”

Severus was dreaming of deep water. Dark, close, and calm, like he was at the very bottom of the ocean, looking up at a pin-prick moon. The word seemed to drift down to him from a thousand miles away.

“Hey. If we stay here all night I think you’ll regret it.”

Severus opened his eyes groggily. The room was dark - the fire burned down to nothing but glowing coals. Had he fallen asleep? Must have.

Harry was looking up at him from where he was laying over Severus’ body, his chin resting on his folded hands as if he’d been watching him for a while.

“Mmh,” Severus began, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What time is it?” 

“Dunno,” Harry answered. “Late. Or really early.”

Severus shifted slightly under his weight. His legs and back felt stiff. It could be near morning. He needed to clean up.

“Where’s my wand?” he asked.

“In your robes maybe. Here, I’ll do it.” Harry shifted back and sat up, and cleaned them both. Severus started to stretch but then realized his trousers were still undone. He buttoned them back up and pulled his shirt into place. “Can we go to bed?” Harry asked, and Severus knew that he was really asking if he could stay until morning. And why shouldn’t he? 

***

Harry woke up first the next morning, with Snape wrapped completely around him. Nestled up against his back, his breath tickling Harry’s neck, his arms around him, and under him, and one of his legs between Harry’s bare feet. The sensation of being held was strange, and confusing, and he was almost frightened, until he opened his eyes, and saw one of Snape’s hands laying in front of his face. It was relaxed, the fingers slightly curled, and close enough to him that he could see it clearly even without his glasses. His sleeve was pushed up just enough to reveal his silver bracelet.

_Oh, right. I’m in the dungeons._

Harry gently touched the mirrored surface with his fingertip, and then noticed a tiny corner of red ink protruding just above it. That must be the Dark Mark. He shifted his finger to touch it, too. Severus did not stir. He hesitated, and then slid his fingers higher, slowly pushing his sleeve out of the way, revealing a serpent, and the grotesquely extended lower jaw of a skull. Severus murmured in his sleep and shifted, and his hands curled into fists. Harry brushed his thumb gently against the tattoo. He’d never seen one up close like this before.

“What are you doing,” Severus breathed against the nape of his neck, still floundering in sleep. And then, a little stronger. “Stop that. Stop.”

Harry withdrew his fingers as Severus’ arms tightened around him.

“Sorry,” he said. 

“What are you doing?” His face was turned into Harry’s hair. 

“Nothing,” Harry answered. And then, “why is it red like that?” 

“Mm? The Mark?”

“Yeah.” Harry had expected him to be angry. Maybe he’d be angry later, when he was more awake. 

“Because I’m not being called just now,” Severus murmured. “When He calls, it turns black.” Harry pressed back a little against him, liking the way his breath felt. His arms, too. 

“Does it hurt? When it turns black.”

“You’re very full of questions this morning.” Severus pulled him back a little harder, and wrapped his fingers around Harry’s throat.

“Oh,” Harry breathed, his head tipping back. “I forgot… what I asked.” Severus exhaled a little chuckle against his hair, and goosebumps rippled down Harry’s arms and back.

“Now, now, Potter, it’s morning. Have some self-control.”

Harry squirmed. “You started it.” Severus’ fingers tightened once and then released.

“So I did,” he said, and shifted away. Harry turned around as the bed dipped.

“Did I leave my glasses by the sofa?” he asked, looking at the blur of Severus Snape standing up. 

“Summon them,” Severus answered. Harry thought _accio glasses,_ and they arrived so rapidly that they hit him in the face. Snape must have had them in his hand. Or maybe they’d been on the bedside table. Harry put them on and sat up against the headboard. “You don’t have anything to wear, do you?” Severus asked. 

“No,” Harry said. “I’ve only got what I came in.”

“No cloak, either, I think.” 

“No.” 

“We will have to work on your foresight,” Severus said. “Take a shower and I’ll send for your clothes.” Harry drew his knees up and looked at the bedspread.

“You’re not going to try to pretend that last night didn’t happen, are you?” he asked. Severus didn’t answer at once, and Harry stared at the weave of the blanket, waiting to be dissapointed.

“I could try,” he began carefully, and Harry looked back up. His hair was mussed, and his feet bare. “I probably should.”

“Will you, though?” Harry asked.

“Take a shower,” Severus answered. 

When Harry came out, damp and clean, his clothes were laid out on the bed. He dressed deliberately, wanting to delay his return to the school as much as he could. It was Sunday, and he’d have to find Ron and Hermione, wherever they were on the grounds, and he’d have to do some homework. He layered his clothes on, piece by piece - underwear, trousers, button down, sweater, tie, robes, socks and shoes. Then, transformed back into a student, he went out into the living room, where Severus was waiting for him.

“What now?” Harry asked, and ran his hand through his hair, standing it on end. Severus’ mouth twitched - almost a smile. 

“Now,” Severus answered him, “I will go to my office, and I will call you, and you will appear there. No need to go waltzing around the dungeons traumatizing my Slytherins.”

“Right,” Harry said, and rolled his eyes. “Those sensitive Slytherins.”

***

When he appeared in the Defense office, Harry swayed on his feet. “I don’t think I will ever get used to just popping into existence like that,” he said. 

“It is quite disorienting,” Severus agreed. Harry looked at him, leaning against his desk, and then over at the closed door. The whole school was out there. It was early, but not that early, and he could probably still catch a bit of breakfast. If he wanted everyone to stare at him. 

“I’ll just go then, shall I?” he said.

“You should,” Severus answered. But then, when Harry had almost reached the door, he spoke again. “Potter.” Harry stopped and turned around. “One more thing before you go.” 

“Yes?” he asked. Severus stood up and walked over to him, and tilted his chin up with two fingers. Harry met his eyes, and felt a weird wave of weakness pour down his legs.

“Behave yourself,” Severus said. 

“Yes Sir,” Harry answered, abruptly breathless. He tried to recover. “I always do.”

“Go.” 

***

Two days later, on Monday, Harry had another meeting with Dumbledore. This one had been even more disturbing than the last, as he was confronted with memories of the boy Riddle, his mother dead, and his father nowhere to be found, left in a muggle orphanage. Again, he struggled with feelings of pity, but this time, they were mixed with disgust and fear. Even as a boy, he had been cruel, and controlling, using his magic to hurt the other children and to steal from them. To hang a rabbit from the rafters. 

As before, Harry lay in bed, contemplating this new information, and wanting very badly to speak to Snape about it. He wanted to ask him why Dumbledore was telling him all this stuff about Voldemort as a child. Was he trying to make Harry feel bad for him? Because if he was, it was kind of working, and Harry didn’t like it. Voldemort didn’t deserve pity. He was a murderous monster. He deserved to be put in the ground. 

Harry thought about the Dark Mark on Snape’s arm. Snape had believed in Voldemort enough to be branded by him. How? How old had Snape been? He couldn’t imagine anyone falling under the sway someone like Tom Riddle. He was so obviously evil, even as an eleven-year-old boy. What had Snape been thinking, to throw in his lot with the Deatheaters? He pulled up his sleeve in the darkness and touched the bracelet. 

_Sir,_ He thought. Snape’s answer came almost at once.

_[Yes, Potter?]_

_Can I come down? I want to talk to you._

_[It’s only been one night]_

_I know._

_[Can’t we talk like this?]_

_I guess. Fine._

_[What is it?]_

_Why did you become a Deatheater?_

_[What?]_

Harry didn’t repeat his question. Snape had gotten it, and he would either answer him or he wouldn’t. _[Potter]_ Appeared after a moment. And then, _[What happened?]_ Harry scowled at this non-answer. It would be easier if he could see Snape’s face. He touched his wrist again and thought: _I met with Dumbledore tonight. He’s been telling me a lot of stuff and I don’t know why._

_[What has he been telling you?]_

_I’m not supposed to say. He told me specifically not to tell you, actually._

_[Did he? I’ll have to speak with him.]_

_Why would anyone follow Voldemort? I don’t get it._

Snape didn’t say anything for a long time. Harry almost gave up, and even had a bottle of Dreamless Sleep in his hand when his cuff finally warmed with a response. _[The same reason anyone joins a fascist regime, I suppose]_ appeared. Harry waited. _[I needed somewhere to belong]_

_How old were you?_

_[Seventeen]_

Seventeen? Harry would be Seventeen in eight months. Snape wouldn’t even have graduated yet. _You had the Mark at Hogwarts?_ Harry asked.

_[Only just]_

_Do you regret it?_

***

_[Do you regret it?]_

Severus looked at the silver script and was very glad that he had not allowed Potter down for this conversation. Did he regret it? The question made Severus want to throttle him. And not in a good way. He touched his wand to the silver and then took it away. He wanted to say, ‘how dare you?’ Or maybe, ‘never ask me that again.’ Finally, though, he just said:

“Yes.”

_[Did it hurt when they put it on?]_

“The Dark Mark?” 

_[Yes]_

“Potter.”

_[Just tell me]_

Severus drummed his fingers against his thigh. He thought back to his Marking ceremony, and a little shiver ran through him. He hardly remembered it. Just bits and pieces. Flashes. Screaming. Blood on the floor, but not his own.

“Yes,” he said, after a while. “And it still does.” Severus leaned his head back against the headboard, and folded his hands. He hoped Potter wouldn’t ask anything else. Selfishly, he was afraid that Harry would be scared away, as if that wouldn’t be for the best. If Potter knew all that Severus had done under the tutelage of the Dark Lord, surely he would never come again. 

His wrist warmed.

_[Can I come down?]_

Severus stared at these words, amazed. He’d imagined Potter laying in his bed, disgusted at the idea of a seventeen-year-old Severus on his knees before the Dark Lord. And he wanted to come down? 

_I do not understand him at all,_ he thought. And then he said it out loud, into the bracelet: “I do not understand you at all.”

 _[When this is all over]_ Harry sent to him. _[Can I stay with you?]_

“What, in the dungeons?” What did he mean by that?

_[You could take me back to Number 12. I own it, you know. It’s my house. We could]_

The words broke off suddenly, as if Potter had lost his nerve mid sentence. _We could stay there together_. Or maybe, _we could live there._ That was what he had been going to say, Severus was sure. And that surety felt like a little splinter in his heart. Sharp, painful, and hot, like it was infected. _We could stay together. When this is all over._

When this was over, they would not be together. It was impossible. When it was over, it would _all_ be over. All of this would be finished. And maybe, if they were lucky, one of them would be alone, instead of dead. Severus hoped it wasn’t he who survived. He touched his wand to the silver one more time.

“As long as we are fantasizing, why not a cottage in the country? An open moor, maybe.” There would be room for a garden, and room for Potter to fly. No one around for miles and miles. Just the two of them. 

All at once the image was very clear. A little stone house with a shingle roof. An overcast day, and Potter on his broomstick with his hair whipping in the wind. He would be a man, by then.

_[By a lake, maybe]_

Why not? Severus had always liked the water. He shook his head to try to clear it.

“Sleep now, Potter,” he said.


	3. Secrets and Lies

The very next day, Severus was called. Apparently, Draco had been keeping Potter’s wandless disarm in his back pocket in case of emergency. And, apparently, he considered his abject failure in attempting to assassinate Albus with a necklace an emergency. He’d offered up this critical intel to save his own sorry skin from punishment, and now Severus was being called to explain himself. He was very glad he’d created some false memories ahead of time, so that when the Mark burned black on his arm, he was already as prepared as he could be. He removed his bracelet before leaving, and placed it carefully on his bookshelf next to a small cluster of votives. He’d be back soon. Before he was missed, surely.

The Dark Lord was angry - demanding to know if Severus had known what Potter had done to Draco - demanding to know what Potter had been doing to achieve this, and what Severus had been doing with him all this time. Severus assured him that Potter was not practicing anything, that he was incompetent, and had disarmed Draco in a fit of rage. He told him that Potter had been ill afterwards, and that he had not been able to recreate the magic. Voldemort wanted proof, as he knew he would, and Severus submitted to his magical excision with perfect obedience. 

The Dark Lord liked to touch him when he did this. He liked to rest his reptilian hand on the top of Severus’ head in what was evidently meant to be an affectionate way. It made Severus’ skin crawl. He hated it. He hated it almost as much as he hated kissing the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. But this disgust was carefully buried beneath layers of devotion, and the Dark Lord could not detect it. Even further down, beneath the loathing, beneath the Order of the Phoenix, beneath his duplicity, and his regret, he had hidden his new mental picture of Potter. He’d dug it down as deeply as he could. He’d made it as small and unrecognizable as possible. A little metal box, locked tight. Buried underneath a mountain of incidental nonsense. His precious Potter, hidden in the ground, where no one could find him.

The Dark Lord had been delighted in particular by the image of the boy on the floor, looking up at him like a butterfly on a pinboard. He’d been so pleased, in fact, that Severus had needed to fight down an upwelling of disgust so strong that it had threatened to burst to the surface. He’d liked the idea of Potter hurting himself with his own magic, too. He’d even laughed, as far as he was capable of laughter. Severus shuddered to think of how excited he would have been to see blood coming out of Potter’s eyes.

It was a wonder that the Dark Lord couldn’t feel how powerful Severus’ hatred was. But, after all these years, he’d become an expert at hiding his loathing as it deepened and matured. It was his life’s work. That, and it was one of Voldemort’s many weaknesses that he so thoroughly expected to find abject servility - even _love -_ in Severus’ mind, that he didn’t bother trying to dig. Severus was his favorite acolyte. If Voldemort trusted anyone at all, it was Severus. And Severus hoped that, one day, that trust would kill him.

When he made it back to the castle, it was too late for dinner, and he went straight to his rooms for the cuff. The candles beside it had melted while he was away, and wax had dribbled into a little pool on the floor. Potter had been trying to reach him. For a while. 

_[Answer me]_ appeared twice in quick succession as he cleaned the wax off. _[I swear to god. If you’re gone I’ll kill you]_

“Calm down, Potter,” he said. “I was called.”

_[Snape, fuck I thought you were dead. I’ve been trying to talk to you for hours. Call me]_

_Goodness_.

“Where are you?”

_[No one’s around. Call me. Now. Or I’ll fucking walk down there]_

He shouldn’t allow Potter to order him around. He should make him wait. He should make him calm down first, at least.

“ _Chimera_ ,” he said.

When Harry appeared, he launched himself into Severus’ arms so forcefully that Severus was knocked back into the bookcases. 

“Potter,” he gasped, “Merlin, are you trying to give me a concussion?” 

“Yes!” Harry shouted at him. “You haven’t responded to me for hours and hours! And then you weren’t at dinner! You weren’t anywhere in the castle! And I - I thought - ” he stopped and shoved Severus in the chest, and then buried his face in his robes. “You’re such a PRICK.”

“I was called, Potter. I didn’t take the bracelet with me.”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“That I’m a spy, obviously. I was out spying.”

“Fuck _you_.” Harry’s hands came up to clutch at his shoulders. “I thought you were _dead._ ”

“You threatened to kill me just now,” Severus said. “Surely you didn’t really think I was dead.” Harry lifted his head and glared fiercely at him.

“YOU,” he said, “ARE IMPOSSIBLE.” He jerked Severus forward by the front of his robes and kissed him ferociously. Severus could feel his anger in it, and his fear - could almost taste the hours Harry had spent trying to find him, and his panic as evening fell with no answer.

Severus grabbed him with both hands, turned him, and crushed him to the shelves. Having someone to touch just then felt unbelievably good, like he could scour off the memory of being petted by the Dark Lord’s hideous fingers, and replace it with Potter’s skin. He wanted Potter’s naked skin. He needed to touch it. To taste it.

There was a sound. 

A little _fwip_ like a lantern being blown out. Snape opened his eyes at once and pulled back. 

“ _What,_ ” Harry complained, exasperated, and looked around. A single fiery feather floated to the floor in front of the hearth. “What in bloody hell is that?”

Severus let go of him and scrubbed his hands hard over his face. “The Headmaster wants to meet with me,” he said. “I have to go.”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Harry groaned. “Can I wait here?” Severus looked over at him. He either had to wait here or leave by himself. Neither option really sounded that good. There was a second _fwip_ and a scrap of parchment appeared with another feather. Severus snatched it out of the air and grimaced. “What?” Harry asked again, alarmed. 

“ _You can bring Harry with you_ ,” he read aloud. They looked at eachother. 

“Oh,” Harry said. “You go first.”

“Fix your shirt,” Severus told him, and summoned the floo powder. 

***

“Severus!” Albus beamed at him when he appeared out of the fireplace. “And Harry, too. What a pleasant surprise.” His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. “Please sit.” They sat, and Fawks chirruped happily from his perch. 

“Hi, Professor,” Harry said, and looked fondly at the bird. “Hullo Fawkes.” Severus sat very straight in his chair and looked directly at the Headmaster. Albus smiled at him and then at Harry. 

“Lemon drop?” Harry declined the sweet. “Well, Harry, I know we’ve only just had a lesson, but I have a message to relay to you.”

“A… message?” Harry asked. He couldn’t think who could possibly need to send him a message other than the two men currently in the room with him. Mrs. Weasley, maybe?

“Yes. Professor Slughorn has expressed to me his consternation that you are being given far too much detention. He is concerned that you are being mistreated.” Harry looked at Snape before he could stop himself.

“I - uh,” he began. Severus rescued him.

“Potter does not wish to attend Horace’s parties,” he said blandly. “And Horace will apparently not take no for an answer, thus - ” he spread his hands. “Detention.”

“Well, Professor Slughorn would like me to tell you not to worry, because detention will certainly not get in the way of his most famous Christmas festivities, as they will be held outside of term. I’m sure you’re very relieved.” He smiled again. Harry made a face.

“Great,” he said. 

“And he would like to tell _you_ , Severus, that it is very unfair of you to hoard Harry the way you are doing.”

Harry was glad he hadn’t accepted the candy, as he surely would have inhaled it.

“I am not _hoarding_ \- ” Severus began, spluttering in indignation. 

“Ha!” Harry laughed aloud. “You should tell him there’s a queue!” He gave Severus a little kick in the leg with the toe of his shoe, and then immediately blushed scarlet as he realized what he’d done. “Sorry,” he said. Severus glared at him and then looked back at the Headmaster.

“You see?” he said. “This is how he gets detention.” He crossed his legs. “Very inappropriate.” Harry’s back was tingling slightly where he’d hit the bookshelves. He blushed again, his face so hot he thought it must be emitting light.

“I’m glad to see you two are getting along so well,” the Headmaster said. “And since I have you both here together, I thought I might ask, how is your training going, Harry?”

“Oh, uh, it’s fine,” Harry said, trying to recover a normal color. “I’ve gotten pretty good at summoning and charms and stuff. And it’s been a while since I’ve collapsed. A few weeks, maybe?” He looked at Severus, who nodded at him. 

“Why don’t you make something for the Headmaster, Potter,” he said. Harry thought for a moment, and then held out his fist, and opened his fingers like a flower. A little glass pyramid appeared on his palm. It was the first thing he’d thought of. Dumbledore was delighted.

“Excellent,” he said. “Truly excellent, Harry.” He took it from him and inspected it. “May I keep this?”

“Sure,” Harry said, shrugging. “I can make a bunch if you want.”

“No, that’s quite alright. No need to exhaust yourself.” He placed the little pyramid on his desk near his quills, and then folded his hands. “There is one more thing, before you go. How are you liking your gift?” 

“Oh. The bracelets?” Harry managed not to look at Snape that time. He looked down at his shoes instead. “They’re really good. They’re helping me a lot.”

“And you, Severus?”

“I’ve gotten quite used to having no privacy at all,” he said snidely. “Thank you for asking.” 

“Very good,” Albus said, and Severus scowled and looked out the window. “Now, Harry, I think it best if you went back to your dormitory. It’s almost curfew.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, and stood up. He looked over at the back of Snape’s head, as he scrutinized the dark grounds. “Bye, then.” 

***

Almost as soon as the door had closed, Severus felt his bracelet warm. He looked down at it without thinking. 

“And what does he say?” Albus asked serenely. Severus glowered back at him and then pulled back his sleeve.

“He says, ‘ _tell me when you’re through_.’” 

“And I’m sure you shall. Now, your report, Severus, if you would be so kind.”

Severus gave his report, and showed Albus the false memories he had formulated. He told the Headmaster that Voldemort had been enraged by the idea that Harry had disarmed Draco without his wand, but that he’d been mollified by Severus’ assurances that Potter was not capable of any such thing. At least, not on command. Albus, for his part, had been satisfied, and they turned their attention towards Draco’s ill-fated attempt on the Headmaster’s life. He again pushed Severus to try to coerce Draco into confiding in him. 

“He has rebuffed me at every turn,” Severus said. “I’ve called him to my office. I’ve tried to corner him after classes. I’ve given him detention. He wouldn’t even speak to me about his altercation with Potter.”

“You must continue to try,” Albus answered him. “Or surely many more innocent bystanders will be injured by his recklessness. He is frightened, I’m sure. And dangerous, because of his fear.”

Severus looked at him for a long moment, wondering why they couldn’t just let the boy fail. Well, before the unbreakable vow, maybe they could have. 

“What are you doing with Potter in these meetings you’re having with him?” Severus asked suddenly. He’d meant to work up to it. Oh well. “After the last one he was - upset.”

“Was he? In what way?”

“He wanted to know why - ” Severus stopped, and tried again. “He asked me - what made me - ” He stopped again. “He wanted to know if it hurt to be Marked.”

“Did he?” Albus tilted the glass pyramid this way and that, by its tip. It refracted the lamplight and made it sparkle.

“Yes. He did.” _He wanted to know why I became a Deatheater. And when I told him, he wanted to sleep in my bed with me. Mad._

“And what did you say?”

“I told him the truth.”

“How refreshing.”

“Albus. What have you been showing him? If you trust me enough to leave him with me, surely you must trust me enough for this.”

“I will not tell you, Severus, and it has nothing to do with trust. It is between myself and the boy. I called you here for your report, and now you have given it to me.”

“I need to know.”

“You do not need to know.” Albus turned to look at Fawkes, and he frowned. “But… There is something that perhaps you should know, now. Now that Draco has begun trying his hand at me.” 

Severus looked at Dumbledore looking at the bird, and felt a vague fear begin to seep up into his mind. And then Albus began to speak. And Severus had been right. He had been right to be afraid. 

Severus had known for years that Harry would likely die in the conflict with the Dark Lord. Young as he was, the idea that he could survive was almost absurd. But Severus had not known that Albus _intended_ for him to die. That, in the end, he _had_ to die _._ That all this time, Albus had known. Harry had to die, and Voldemort had to do it. And Albus had _known._

“Don’t be shocked, Severus.” 

_Don’t be shocked?_ He was shocked. He was shocked down to his very bones. All this time. Protect him, teach him. Give him what he needs. Here, let him come to your rooms. Let him sleep in your bed. He is facing hard times, and so are you. 

How could Albus do this to him? To the both of them? How did he _dare_?

“You - ” Severus took a breath. “You allowed me to - ” _love him_ “ - become _attached_ to him - and now you tell me that we have been protecting him so that he might die at the right moment?” He tried to control his voice. “After everything, have we been raising him like a pig for slaughter?”

“It is war, Severus, is it not?”

It was war. 

That was no excuse. Severus stood up.

“And just what does he owe any of us?” he demanded. “Why should I try to put him through this?”

“I think,” Albus responded carefully, “that it is not about owing.”

“Isn’t it?” Severus spat. “Does anyone have greater right to life than he?” Albus just looked up at him standing there for a long moment, and Severus didn’t like the expression on his face. He looked confused, and then sad, and then understanding, and Severus wanted to hit him. What had Albus thought was going on, all these weeks? Maybe he’d thought that Severus was putting up with Harry out of the charity of his heart. Maybe, until right now, Albus had thought that Severus would be glad to be quit of him. Maybe he had thought that.

“Severus,” the old man began. Snape cut him off.

“Don’t ask me,” he hissed, and pointed his finger straight down onto his desk, glaring furiously into his eyes. He did not pull the curtain down on what he was feeling. He did not try to hide. For that one moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t care _at all_. “Don’t you fucking ask me _anything_.”

And Albus didn’t ask - had nothing at all to say to him, in fact. Not anymore. Severus whirled out of the room, banging the door shut behind him, and Albus let him go.

He would do his duty. He would save Draco, if he could. He would protect the students, if and when the school fell to the Deatheaters. And Potter. As far as he was concerned, Potter could have whatever he wanted, now. What was the point of trying to tell him no if he was going to be sacrificed on the pyre of the greater good? If Potter wanted to learn, Severus would be his teacher. If he wanted a master, then Severus would make him submit. And if he wanted a lover... well. Severus would love him. And that was it. Anything else was a waste of time. And there was so little of that.

Back in his rooms, Severus spun his bracelet around his wrist. 

“ _Chimera_ ,” he said. 

_[There are people around. Wait]_ appeared in answer. 

“No,” Severus said. “I want you now.” 

***

The common room was full of Gryffindors when Harry arrived, and the general conversation was about Katie Bell’s accident. People wanted to know if Harry would be replacing her as chaser, which Harry thought was pretty rude. She’d almost died, and that’s what people cared about? When he found Ron and Hermione by the fire, he told them as much.

“I’ll never understand this fixation on Quidditch,” Hermione scoffed. “I can’t imagine Katie would appreciate that people only care about her spot on the team.”

“People care about her,” Ron answered back. “But she’s at St. Mungos, isn’t she? Nothing we can do for her.” He looked appraisingly at Harry. “Where have you been?” he asked.

“Headmaster’s office,” Harry replied, and dropped his voice. “He wanted to know how my training is going.”

“I thought he was training you?” Hermione asked shrewdly.

“He is,” Harry answered. “But I’m supposed to be, you know, practicing.”

“Hm,” she said. 

“He told me a lot of new stuff about - _Voldemort_.” He hadn’t had time to even tell them about the meeting he’d had the night before. He told them now, in whispered fragments, as people came and went around them.

“He hung a rabbit?” Ron whispered in disgust.

“What did he mean about the mouth organ?” Hermione asked.

“I dunno,” Harry answered. “He sent me away just after.”

“So why did you go again tonight?”

Harry grimaced theatrically. “Well, he wanted to tell me that Professor Slughorn is _alarmed_ at how much detention I’ve had, because it’s interfering with his daft dinners _._ And he wanted to tell me that his Christmas Party will be outside of term, so I don’t need to worry about missing it.” He rolled his eyes at Ron.

“Another party just for the _Slug Club_ , eh?” he asked sourly.

“Oh, yes, I was going to tell you,” Hermione interrupted. “You need to be careful. I’ve overheard a lot of talk in the girl’s bathroom about who you’ll be inviting.”

“Who I’ll be - what?” 

“To the party, yes. Some people seem to think that slipping you a love potion would be the best way to go about it.”

“What? Hermione, you’re a Prefect! Didn’t you confiscate them?” Harry was aghast. Love potions? What in the world? He thought back to that girl that had let him into the common room when he’d forgotten the password. Her friend had been giggling very suspiciously. What had her name been? 

“Don’t be silly, they didn’t have the potions with them.”

“How many people have you heard talking about this?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Six or seven maybe.”

“Seven!!” Harry yelped. “What am I, catnip?” The people nearby looked over at him. He imagined going to Snape for help after being poisoned with seven different love potions. 

“I can’t believe you’re so surprised, Harry,” Hermione said matter of factly. “You’re the most fanciable boy in the school these days.” Ron spluttered and turned red. “People are fascinated by you.” Harry looked between them. 

“Yeah, well, fascinating though I might be, I’m really behind on homework. What are you guys working on?”

“Arithmancy,” Hermione said. “And Ron is working on _doodling_.”

“I’m not!” He fired up at once. “I was trying to work on Potions, but without the Prince I couldn’t do it!”

Hermione made a disapproving noise and turned her nose into her parchment. Harry thought about telling her that it was Snape’s old book he’d been using. She’d probably leave him alone about it, then. But he couldn’t imagine how he could justify knowing that. And he was quite sure Snape would not like it if he told her, so he said nothing. He went upstairs to fetch his copy of Advanced Potions Making, and thought about asking Snape how his meeting was going, but in the end he left him alone. He’d say when he was done. Harry would just wait. 

He worked steadily through his Potions assignment with Ron for about an hour before anything happened. And then, without preamble, Snape summoned him. He didn’t accept the call, though, obviously. The common room was still quite full. Instead, he slid his finger into his sleeve and told Snape so. 

_There are people around. Wait,_ he thought.

Then, the warmth of his answer. Harry angled his shoulders to hide his arm as he peeked down at it.

_[No. I want you now]_

His body tightened around his spine as he read it. He touched the bracelet again and thought: _I’ll vanish in front of thirty Griffindors if you want me to._

_[5 minutes]_

_***_

It took Harry a little longer than five minutes to extricate himself from his friends with the pretext of going to sleep, and after he had, he tried to climb the stairs to the boy’s dormitory at a normal speed. Then, when he’d snatched up his invisibility cloak and closed his curtains around his bed, he touched his wrist and thought: _Sorry. I’m ready now,_ and Severus called him immediately.

He appeared in Snape’s bedroom and, before he could get his bearings, had been seized and hoisted almost off of his feet by the front of his shirt.

“Make me wait, will you?” Severus demanded.

“Sorry,” Harry squeaked. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Not good enough,” Severus answered, and kissed him once on the mouth before throwing him backwards. Harry gasped and flung out his arms in fear, but landed on something soft. Snape’s bed. He propped himself up on his hands, and Severus grabbed his ankle and spilled him back down. “Stay down,” he ordered, and moved one knee to the mattress between Harry’s spread legs, leaning over him. Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” he said again. Severus grabbed the front of his shirt again and jerked him up until they were nose to nose. 

“Sorry _what?_ ” he growled.

“Sir,” Harry gasped. “Sorry - Sir - Sorry _._ ”

Severus took his glasses and hurled them off the side of the bed. Harry heard them shatter but didn’t care, as Severus kissed him again, aggressively, and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Harry reached out to touch him, but Severus bit him, hard, and then knocked him back flat to the blankets. Buttons flew in all directions as he jerked the two sides of his shirt apart, tearing it down the middle. 

“Oh, fuck - what’s gotten into you?” Harry gasped, and then moaned as Severus’ bit down on his bare chest, wanting to mark him, wanting to make it as dark as he could. His hands moved to Harry’s belt and fly, and when they were undone he pulled back, dragging Harry’s trousers and underwear down his legs. He yanked off Harry’s shoes and socks, dropped it all on the floor, and kicked the pile of clothes out of the way. Then, he stood at the edge of the bed and looked down at him, naked except for his ruined shirt, panting, flushed, and full of life.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said, watching as color began to spread down Harry’s body. “Is that what you want?”

Harry propped himself slowly up on his elbows, wary of being knocked down again. 

“I want... whatever you want to give me,” he said slowly. Snape was a dark blur that lightened in places as the man began to undo his many buttons. A triangle of white skin developed and widened, and Harry swallowed, wishing very badly that he could see just a little bit better. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Severus asked again. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“Tell me,” Severus answered. He dropped his tunic to the floor and moved to his slacks, undoing them and leaving them at his feet. Harry wanted _very_ badly to see. Severus was right there, naked, and it was like looking through a fogged window. 

“Fuck me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Severus moved so fast that Harry didn’t even have time to flinch as he was pinned back against the sheets by his neck. Hot breath moved over his skin, and he thought that if he got any harder he might actually explode.

“Say it again,” Severus growled, and Harry felt the tip of Severus’ wand trail down the center of his chest and down. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me.”

“Mm,” Severus hummed. And then he said some words that Harry didn’t recognize, and a strange warmth tingled through him.

“What - what’s that,” he asked, wanting to look, but held still by Severus’ hand around his throat. And then he knew, as he felt one of Severus’ fingers slide between his legs, touching him just gently at the entrance to his body. It slipped easily across his skin. Lubrication. “ _Oh,_ ” he gasped. And then again, as he was penetrated. “ _Oh - ”_

Severus pressed a kiss onto his hipbone as he slid one finger inside of him to the first knuckle. Potter’s body arched back against the invasion, and he tightened his hand, holding him down. 

“Stay still,” he said. He stroked his fingertip gently against the inside of his body, feeling him, and then began to thrust slowly in and out. Harry was so hot inside, like an oven, and velvet smooth, and Severus’ blood rushed in his ears as he imagined what it would feel like to be inside him. He controlled himself - forced himself to move slowly, as he added a second finger and very slightly separated them, stretching him just a little. Harry trembled once, violently against the sheets as he did this, and Severus looked up at him, his head tipped back under Severus’ hand, his chest heaving, and the purple-red bruise over his heart, ringed with pink teeth marks. No one had ever done this to him before, he knew. There was so much he hadn’t felt. Severus wanted to give him _everything._ And he wanted to give it to him right now, all at once.

He crooked his fingers, searching, and brushed his lips slowly down the underside of Harry’s cock, feeling him tremble and pant. Then, as Severus made a tiny beckoning motion, the boy twitched, and made a noise like he was being tortured. “Yes?” Severus asked, sliding his fingers against the spot again.

“Yes,” Harry moaned. “Oh, yes, yes, more - ”

“More?” he repeated.

“More, _please_ \- ” his throat worked against Severus’ palm. “Please - I want - _more._ ” _Mercy._ Severus pressed in a third finger, circling his fingertips around the spot inside him, and then pressing them against it with each withdrawal as he began to thrust. He pressed his mouth to Potter’s cock, and it jerked against his lips. “Oh fuck - ” Harry whimpered suddenly. “Wait- wait - stop - I’m gonna - I don’t want to come yet. I want - ” His words were choked off as Severus’ tongue slid up from the base of his cock and over the head.

“I want you to come,” Severus said, his voice a growl, vibrating into his skin. “I want you to come now, and later. As many times as I can make you.” He licked him again, and moved his fingers a little faster, dragging them in and out and curling them just so. With his other hand, he pressed his thumb and forefinger into the sides of Harry’s neck, and then opened his mouth, taking his cock all the way to the base. He didn’t stop until his nose touched the boy’s abdomen - no further to take him. Harry’s legs drew up and he started to shake, as if trying to press down against his fingers and up into his mouth both at once.

Severus swallowed around him, and felt him begin to spasm, and groaned in sympathy as Harry’s hands fisted in the sheets and he started to spill. A long, drawn-out, wordless cry that seemed to go on forever forced its way out of his throat and he fell back, boneless, gasping, as Severus released him. Pressing one more kiss to his hip, he withdrew his fingers, and Harry trembled again, in a very appealing way. Severus didn’t give him any time to recover, though, but immediately dragged him up further towards the headboard and flipped him onto his stomach. 

Harry didn’t move at all as Severus pulled his torn button-down off of him and tossed it off the bed, and then lifted him up just enough to slide a pillow under his hips. He didn’t think he _could_ move. He felt Severus’ fingertips trail down his back, and then his breath on the side of his neck as he spoke. 

“And what will you do if I hurt you, hmm?” he asked, moving his hands to hold Harry’s hips steady. 

“What?” It took Harry a moment to get the word to come out. There was a sort of blank fizzing static filling his brain. 

“If I hurt you,” Severus repeated, and kissed the back of his neck. “You’ll tell me to stop, yes?” Harry didn’t answer, but just turned his face into the sheets. Severus smacked him on the thigh. “Potter,” he said, his voice hard. Harry tried to think. 

_If he hurts me… I’m supposed to…_

“Sparks?” he asked slowly, his voice muffled.

“Show me.” 

Harry tried to muster his magic. He lifted one limp hand and focused hard. A single red spark drifted out of his fingertip and fell to the sheets, leaving a little black mark. That was all he could manage. 

“Very good,” Severus said, and lined himself up. A weak little involuntary moan came out of Harry as he felt the hot, blunt tip of Severus’ cock slide against his hole, and he spread his legs, and nodded hard against the bed. “Mm. Again. Tell me.”

“Fuck me,” he breathed. 

“You’re so lovely,” Severus murmured, and began to press inside. He moved as slowly as he could bear, sinking into him with all the restraint he could muster. He was so hot, and so _tight,_ Severus thought he might go mad trying to hold himself back. 

“Wait - ” Harry gasped suddenly. “Don’t stop - just - _ah_ \- wait. Oh - god - wait.”

Severus held himself still. A drop of sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” he said, gentling his hands, stroking his thumbs across the boy’s skin, wanting to make him feel safe. “Breathe.” Harry seized the headboard with one hand and pressed the other against his mouth in a fist. Severus could feel his body contracting around him and bit the inside of his cheek to control the urge to just - fucking - _have him_. Because that would hurt him. And Severus didn’t want to hurt him just then. Harry inhaled deliberately through his nose and then let it out in a slow, controlled stream. “That’s good. Yes. Relax. Trust me.” Severus shifted a little and he cried out softly. “Breathe. Can I give you more?” Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took another long, slow inhale. Then, after a moment that felt like forever, he nodded his head. Severus began to move again, a bit more - so slowly - and finally he was sheathed, all the way to the base, his hipbones pressed flush against Potter’s body. He gave a single low grunt of pleasure. And then, as his thoughts rallied, “are you - alright?”

Harry pressed his lips together and nodded again. Severus leaned over him and kissed his spine, and the back of his shoulder. “You feel so good.” He began to move, pulling out just a little before rocking back into him. “Like you were made for me.” Harry’s body was beginning to yield, to stretch to fit him. He thrust once, a little more firmly, and Harry yelped and covered his mouth. Severus grabbed his hand and pulled it away, pinning it to the bed.

“Why are you trying to be quiet?” he asked. “I want to hear you.” He withdrew almost all the way, and then pressed back into him with one long, smooth stroke. 

“Oh - _oh_ \- ” Harry sobbed, trying to pull his hand out of Severus’ grasp. He squeezed it, held it down, and began to thrust rhythmically, angling his hips. “ _Fuck - ”_

“Yes, let me hear you.”

He whined pitifully as Severus’ cock struck home inside him, and he stayed on the spot, pulsing steadily against it. 

“ _Please -_ ”

_Fucking precious. Oh, Merlin._

Severus forced himself to stay under control. _Don’t hurt him_ , he thought. _Steady. Steady. Take him apart_. 

_“Severus - ”_ Harry moaned, and then froze in fear. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry-”

“No,” Severus said, releasing his hand and maneuvering one arm underneath him, finding his cock - hard already - and wrapping his fingers around it. He pressed his face into the back of his neck, pushing into him in time with the movement of his hand. “It’s alright. Say it again. Say my name.” 

_Mine. Mine. Mine. He’s MINE._

_“Oh - god - Severus - ”_

“Yes, that’s right. Give yourself to me.” The pressure was becoming unbearable, but Severus was determined to feel him come from the inside. _Break him open. Slow and steady._

“ _More - please - just - a little - more - please - Severus - please -_ ”

_Oh, fuck, listen to him._

_Don’t come yet._

_Don’t come._

“Like this?” he asked, snapping his hips forward. Not hard, but harder. He withdrew and did it again, and again.

“Yes, _fuck,_ ” Harry grabbed the headboard with both hands and Severus heard his fingernails scrape against the wood. “ _More, more._ ”

“ _Ah_ \- you,” Severus grunted, tightening his fingers around Harry’s cock trapped between his body and the pillow. “You make me want to _beg_.” He was right on the edge. Balanced, about to fall. 

“I’m so - _close_ \- ” 

Severus shuddered hard at the effort, and thrust all the way in, moving his hips in tight circles and twisting his hand, and Harry was coming again, saying his name, making it sound _obscene_. Harry’s body contracted hard around his cock and that was it, that was all he had. He sank his teeth into Harry’s shoulder as he lost the last vestiges of his control, fucking him hard, harder than he meant to, as his orgasm crested, and then broke over.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry gasped, the word driven out of him. “ _Yes, yes_ -” He reached back to tangle his fingers into Severus’ hair, to grab at him, as he jerked, and spilled, and then finally, finally began to slow.

As the frenzy passed, Severus rested his head forward onto Harry’s back, his hips still pulsing weakly, wanting Harry to keep making those little noises he was making. To make him whimper like that forever, until the sun died. Then, finally, when he was too soft to keep doing it, he pulled out, and fell forward, laying half over Harry’s body and half off. He ran his hand over Harry’s sweat-slick skin, and tried to catch his breath.

“Alright?” he asked after a moment. Harry gave a tremulous little laugh, hardly more than a breath, and said:

“I think I died.” 

Severus laughed then, too. “Well,” he said. “I suppose you’re welcome then.” He touched the teeth marks on his shoulder, tracing them with his fingertips. “I’ve left some marks on you, I think.”

“Good,” Harry murmured, and turned laboriously over to look at him. Severus shifted to allow him, and then lay on his side. The mark on his chest was very black. He touched that, too, and then leaned forward to press his lips to it. Harry hummed contentedly, and he turned his face into Severus’ shoulder. “You broke my glasses,” he said. 

“I’ll mend them,” Severus answered, and pulled him closer, tucking the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and carding his fingers through his damp hair. “Your shirt too.”

“M’kay,” Harry answered quietly. There was only their breathing for a long while, as Severus tried to summon enough energy to clean them up. Finally, though, he managed to will himself up off the bed and out of Harry’s arms. He cast his cleaning charms, and repaired what he’d damaged, and then coaxed the boy up off the bed so he could draw down the blankets.

“I should go back to my dorm,” Harry said, as he slid under the sheets. He yawned hugely.

“Stay,” Severus answered him, and lay down, too. He pulled the boy back into his arms and draped the blankets over them both.

“I can’t,” Harry said against his chest. “I have to go.” He sounded exhausted. 

“Why?”

Harry looked up at him. “It’s tuesday,” he said slowly. “I have classes tomorrow.” Severus brushed his hair back off of his forehead and then kissed his scar.

“Stay,” he said again. “It doesn’t matter.” He put out the light.

Harry stayed quiet for a while, and Severus thought that maybe he’d fallen asleep, when he spoke again. “I think something happened at your meeting,” he said. Severus opened his eyes in the darkness. “Something happened to you. It must have. Or you wouldn’t have - done this.” What could he say? He couldn’t lie. Well, at least, he didn’t want to lie. “You probably can’t tell me,” Harry continued. “You can just say that, if you want.” 

His intuition, again. Like he could see through walls. Like there was nowhere to hide.

“I used to think you were quite dim,” Severus said, running the very tips of his fingers over his skin. “But now I know that your light just wasn’t pointed at me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

“No. Can you tell me what Albus has been showing you?”

“No,” Harry answered, turning his face into Severus’ shoulder, and resting his hand on his chest. 

“Stay, then. And trust me that it doesn’t matter.”


	4. What He Wants

Severus woke Harry very early the next morning and sent him into the shower. And then he stood outside the door for about 45 seconds before knocking, and going in after him. 

“Yeah?” Harry called out.

“May I?”

Severus washed his body, and when he got hard, he pushed him back against the tiles and got him off, and sucked another bruise onto his skin. Then, Severus washed his hair, and kissed him, and sent him out to get dressed. It was almost a relief, behaving like this. Just acting, without worrying about consequence. Without worrying what this would do to him in the long run, this torrid affair with his Professor. It was almost fun, like taking a little vacation from moral obligation. And certainly it was fun doing things to Potter. The way he reacted it was like he’d never been touched at all before Severus got to him. 

Afterwards, Severus went to his office and called the boy there, and then sent him back to his dormitory under the cloak to get the rest of his uniform and go down to breakfast. Then, Snape went about his day. He had work to do, and classes to teach, and Potter had his classwork as well. He told himself it was silly to wish that they could stay in bed all day. It was frivolous to daydream about Potter’s skin against his emerald green sheets, and the way he turned pink all the way down to his navel. It was absolute, adolescent nonsense to be so fixated on his _lover_ that he could think of nothing else. Severus told himself that he had Defense against the Dark Arts with the 6th years after lunch, and he could look at Potter more then. Until then, though, he had to focus on his work. 

It should be easy. Even as a boy, he’d prided himself on his ability to block out distraction. As a student, he’d excelled beyond all expectation despite the relentless bullying and the hissed insults. Despite his substandard equipment, and hand-me-down wand. Despite his parent’s screaming fights during the summer. He’d been able to narrow his attention down to what really mattered: his work. That was the skill that lead him to Occlumency as an adolescent, and allowed him to walk without fear beside the Dark Lord. 

Now, though. 

Now, his mind seemed unwilling to obey him. It seemed unwilling to think of anything at all, in fact, except Potter. 

Harry. 

Like he was all that mattered.

***

Harry made it to breakfast without incident, and when he sat down next to Ron, Ron didn’t ask where he’d been. Instead, he asked who Harry was going to recruit to replace Katie as chaser. He had to choose someone soon, as their first match was looming, and Slytherin certainly wouldn’t go easy on them because one of their teammates had almost been cursed to death. Harry had almost forgotten. Dean, he supposed. He’d been the second best at trials, and Harry certainly would not be holding trials again. 

“You better ask him today. Our next practice is tonight.”

“Is it?”

Ron looked at him. “Yeah,” he said. “7:00. You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry answered. “Just tired.” Actually, he felt great. A little sore, maybe. Especially the bite marks - hot and tender, hidden under his clothes. 

“I hope you’re not too tired. Our team needs a lot of work.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

It was not fine. The team was a disaster. Ron, in particular, needed a lot of work. And then, with Dean and Ginny together - What a mess. 

***

Harry came again friday night, under the pretense of practicing his wandless magic. They did not practice. And they didn’t even make it to the bed. Severus had him right on the floor, in front of the hearth. 

“Can’t I just stay here all the time?” Harry asked afterwards, laying naked in the firelight. Severus smoothed his hand over Harry’s waist and down his hip. He was so captivating like this - relaxed, and pink, and content. 

“It wouldn’t do to draw attention to how much time you’re spending with me,” Severus answered. “You have to sleep in your Dormitory at least often enough for that.”

“Why does it even matter if people get suspicious?” He lay back and stretched, and Severus watched him do it. Harry was almost cat-like, with an unselfconscious grace that took him off guard each time he saw it. It was how he looked on a broomstick. The absolute master of his body. Harry looked over at him staring, and smiled. 

Oh, that smile. 

Unguarded. Uncomplicated. Free, and easy. It made Severus feel drunk with power to put an expression like that on his face. He lifted one of Harry’s hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles. _I love you,_ he thought. It was becoming almost routine, thinking that. _I love you._ Almost normal. Almost tolerable to hold in his mind, now. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Potter,” he began. “But I am not supposed to be touching you at all.” He moved his mouth further up his arm, and kissed the tender inside of his wrist. “Let alone fucking you on the floor. Or choking you with my cock, for that matter.”

“I liked that a lot,” Harry said, his eyes glittering.

Liked it? He’d gotten himself off on it. His head held down into Severus’ lap so hard he couldn’t breathe. And Severus hadn’t even meant to do it - hadn’t meant to - hold him down like that. But he’d _liked it._

“I know you did.” He dropped Harry’s hand and slid his fingers into his hair, tugging his head back against the floor, and moving to lean over him. “I’d do it to you now if I hadn’t just come inside you five minutes ago.” The marks on his chest were beginning to fade and Severus kissed them all, one by one. Harry made a little noise as he did this, and Severus looked down to see that he was getting hard again. “You are very hard to please, you know.”

“Am I?” Harry asked, his head tipped back. When he swallowed, Severus could see his Adam’s apple bob, and wanted - all kinds of things. “I’m feeling pretty pleased right now.” 

“I can see that,” Severus breathed. He moved lower, brushing his lips down Harry’s abdomen, and slid his fingers between his legs. He was still stretched open and slick, almost dripping, and Severus touched him there gently, knowing he must be terribly sensitive. “Shall I have you again?” he whispered, and licked a stripe along his skin. “Or do you want something else?”

Harry gasped and twitched at the slightest touch. He was so responsive. It made Severus want to torture him. 

“I want - ” 

“Tell me.”

“Please - your mouth.”

“Mm.” He moved lower, just lightly brushing his tongue over the head of his prick and cupping his balls. “Maybe I’ll just play with you until I get hard enough to fuck you again. I don’t think it will take long. How does that sound?” Harry whined and brought his legs up to try to pull Severus down. “Do you think you could stand it?” He was already feeling the first stirrings of renewed arousal low in his belly. With Harry like this, it wouldn’t take long at all.

“Severus,” Harry gasped. “ _Fuck_.”

“I’ll take that as a, ‘ _Yes, Sir._ ’” He drew his parted lips down his shaft, listening to his breath falter, and then opened his mouth and began to take him inside. He moved slowly, languidly, tasting him and working his way down, and then gradually began to bob his head. And, oh, he never wanted to stop. Every sound that came out of Harry’s mouth was so devastating, Severus wanted to keep him suspended in euphoria forever. Just, bliss - for the rest of his life. Or at least, as long as he could.

Harry was starting to tremble, and Severus gave him just a little more, bringing him right to the brink - and then he pulled off abruptly and gripped the base of his cock, hard. Harry’s body jerked and shuddered violently under his hands, but nothing came out of him.

“Fff-Uu-ck,” he moaned, and collapsed back to the floor, dazed. “What - in God’s name - was that?” Severus looked up at him. 

“Did I give you permission to come?” he asked.

“I, no - you didn’t.” Severus bit him sharply on the tender inside of his thigh. He hadn’t meant it as a reprimand, but Harry yelped and responded as if it had been one. “No, Sir.”

“Patience,” Severus answered him, and then began again. He did it to him two more times, until Harry was a quivering, begging mess, and Severus was quite hard enough to pound him into the floor. Then, he moved back up Harry’s body to hold him steady.

“Shall I?” he asked, and kissed him. It was open-mouthed, filthy, and wet, and Harry almost sobbed as Severus pushed back into him. That sound was like a spark to tinder, and Severus snarled, and Harry’s legs hooked around him, pulling him in deeper like he wanted to be torn in half. “You’re never satisfied, are you?” he demanded, holding him to the floor and starting to move. “You always want _more_.”

“Yes,” Harry moaned. “Oh, god, yes. More. I want - hard - Severus - _hard_.”

Severus fucked him hard, seizing his shoulders and using his grip to pull him down and into each thrust. Harry’s cock bounced with the force of it, and Severus wished badly for more hands to put on him. “Touch yourself,” he said. “If you want to come, make yourself come.”

Harry obeyed, taking himself in hand. “Harder,” he gasped. “Harder. Hurt me, come on, I want it.”

Severus gasped, too, and slammed into him, biting down onto the side of his neck with reckless abandon. Biting hard - maybe too hard - but the fingernails of Harry’s free hand dragged down his back and he moaned wretchedly, cursing, his hand moving faster. A little pain was nothing, Severus supposed. A little pain was _good_ if this is what it did to him. He sank his teeth in savagely, wanting almost to draw blood, and Harry cried out again, louder, and clutched at him. “Please, can I - can I-”

“ _Yes_.” 

Severus was close, but he wanted Harry to come first. And Harry did come first, his body curling up so forcefully that it seemed he was about to levitate off of the floor. Severus pushed his head back down to the rug and held it there for the last few desperate thrusts, harder, harder, _harder,_ and he was coming too, his vision tunneling, and his mind going completely blank as he emptied what felt like his entire life force into Harry’s yielding body. 

He fell forward, absolutely unable to support his own weight, and flattened the boy to the floor. He tried to catch himself - to summon the energy to keep from crushing him - but then stopped trying as Harry’s hands came up to hold him still. Harry was panting shallowly, and as Severus wrapped his arms around him, he started to shiver.

“Too much?” Severus asked, trying to take at least a bit of his own weight on one elbow.

“N-no,” Harry managed. “It was p-perfect. I’m j-just - c-cold.”

Of course, he wasn’t just cold. He was crashing, and hard. He probably needed to eat something. Some sugar, probably. To level him out. At least Severus hadn’t walked away from him this time. He summoned his wand from the pile of clothing on the floor and used it to _accio_ a blanket. Then, he cast the usual cleaning spells and wrapped Harry up, and pulled him into a sitting position so he could be held a little more easily. 

“Alright?” he asked, as Harry sagged back into his arms.

“Mmnh,” Harry murmured. Severus kissed his hair. The shaking was subsiding already, and Harry turned his face towards Severus’ skin with a sigh.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Stupid thing to ask.” 

_Yes, I did._

“If I sent for some food, would you eat?” 

Severus did send for food. It was late, and the kitchens sent up an assortment of desserts so opulent that Severus was quite sure they thought he had a lady visitor. There was a bottle of wine, too, and a fussy little array of tiny forks and spoons. Harry found this to be the peak of high comedy.

“Hey, where are the roses? And the candles?” he asked, laughing. “How can they have forgotten the candles?” 

They ate and drank in front of the fire, Severus in his nightclothes, and Harry in his trousers, and it was like something out of a fantasy world. Chocolate, and cream, and fruit, and wine, in front of the fire, with this beautiful young man. That he was covered in bruises, that his back was red with rug burn, only made it better. It was real. While it lasted, it was Severus’ actual, real life.

“I have a question,” Harry began, after a while.

“What’s that?”

“Remember that time in headquarters, when you pinned me to the table?” He licked a smudge of chocolate off of the back of his spoon.

“Yes,” Severus answered. He remembered that very well. Trying to convince Harry to stop pursuing him. Trying to scare him off. Little did he know, then, that Harry was not to be intimidated.

“You could have had me right then, you know.” Severus looked over at him, sitting there shirtless, suck marks and teeth marks all over him, drinking red wine on the sofa he’d transfigured. _You’re a terror_ , he thought. _I’d die for you._

“I would have never.”

“I know you wouldn’t have. I just mean, you could have. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Severus thought of the noise he’d made when Severus twisted his arm, and how he’d lifted up onto his toes. “I think I knew that, even then.” He paused, took a sip of wine, remembering Harry shocked silent up against the wall. “In fact, the very first time I ever laid hands on you… The way you looked at me. It was like…”

“Like I’d never seen you before.” 

“Yes.” _And I had never seen you before, either._

“But you let me keep coming. You didn’t really try to stop me. Not really.”

“No.” Severus looked into his glass. “I didn’t really want you to stop.”

“And now?”

“Now?” Severus considered this _._ “Now I suppose I wish I had given in sooner.” Harry grinned at him and popped one more bit of chocolate into his mouth. 

“Well, no more tonight though, ok? I have Quidditch practice in the morning and I need to be able to at least sort of sit on my broom. My team is a mess.”

“Is it?” Severus asked. 

“Yeah, well, Katie Bell was my best chaser.”

“Ah.”

“And I replaced her with Ginny’s boyfriend and now Ron has lost his mind.” Severus didn’t think he wanted to hear about this. “He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to be _snogging_ in _school corridors._ ” Harry laughed. “And now he’s so pissed off at everyone that’s ever had a snog that he can hardly even see the bloody quaffle!”

“And how does he feel about your absence at night these days?”

“Seems like he doesn’t care much anymore. I told him - well. I told him that it’s my training that makes me so sleepy that sometimes I can’t make it back, so I stay in that little room.” He pointed to the extra bedroom that he hadn’t slept in since before term started. “Seems like he believes me. Or at least he’s willing to pretend to believe me.”

“And Miss Granger?”

“Well, she doesn’t know if I’m in my bed or not, does she? And I don’t think Ron told her. The two of them, they’re kind of … going through something. I dunno. Probably for the best. Hermione would be harder to put off.” Severus opened his mouth to speak but Harry interrupted him, smacking himself in the forehead. “Oh shit! I was going to ask you! What happens if you take a bunch of different love potions at once?”

“If you - _what?_ ”

By the time Harry explained what Hermione had told him about the girls in the bathroom, Severus looked about ready to expel the entire student body. 

“Mixing love potions, or using them contrary to label can be very dangerous,” he said. “Try not to eat or drink anything anyone gives you.” Harry leaned back and regarded him over the tray of picked over cakes and chocolates. “Well, not _me_ obviously _._ ”

Harry laughed. “What would even happen if you gave me a love potion? Would I explode, do you think?”

***

They fell into a pattern. Harry would ask to come down a few times a week, and Severus would call him, and sometimes he would spend the night, and sometimes he wouldn’t. If he wanted to leave, Severus would send him back under the cloak, and if he wanted to stay, he would sleep in Severus’ bed, and in his arms. Usually, he wanted to stay.

They practiced more advanced conjuring, charms, transfiguration, and hexes, and Harry did his homework and read. They stayed up late, and drank wine, and talked. And Severus touched him, a lot. Could not keep his hands off of him, really. Now that Severus had decided that Harry could have whatever he wanted, he set about trying to figure out what, exactly, he did want. And, as it turned out, he wanted it all.

Severus had him in the bed, and on the sofa, and against the wall, and in the shower. He had him on the floor, and pinned down to the dining table. They broke things. They knocked books off of the shelves. They tore clothing, and shattered glasses. Harry was insatiable, and the more Severus gave him, the more he asked for. More intensity, more heat, more violence. More, more, more.

It was gradual, at first, and the pleasure Severus took in exploring his edges was intense. A little more - a little harder - a little faster. Was that too much? No? How about a little more, then? But slowly, over the weeks, Severus began to realize that there was a problem. 

Harry had no edges. Not a single hard limit. The only thing he’d ever used his sparks for was stopping Severus from comforting him after he’d spoken about his childhood. That was it. Everything else Severus did to him, he liked. He liked Severus’ hands around his neck and over his mouth. He liked the belt. He liked being tied down, and held down, and pressed against walls. He liked being praised, and he liked being terrorized. He liked bruises and teeth marks and friction burns. He liked being kissed. He liked being manhandled, and controlled, and made to beg. He liked everything, and each time Severus was sure that he’d pushed too hard, or gone too far, Harry still wanted more. His passion was overwhelming. He was like a firecracker brought to life.

And Severus was absolutely obsessed with him.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, how much power Potter had over him, now. During the first Gryffindor/Slytherin match of the year, for example, Harry had almost been knocked off of his broom by the Slytherin seeker. And Severus, Lord help him, had leapt to his feet. And then he’d had to play off this unforgivable lapse as if he’d meant it in support of Harper’s foul, as the Slytherin spectators looked at him standing there like an idiot. He told himself that he was used to Potter’s death-defying antics by now. Used to him rocketing straight towards the ground at breakneck speed. He could handle this silly sport without jumping up in terror when _his own team_ was playing dirty - surely he could. It was just… suddenly he didn’t much like seeing anyone else lay hands on him. And certainly he didn’t like seeing him in danger of falling a hundred feet to his death.

Severus had been furious after that, and had wanted to punish Harry for making him look like such a fool. And when Harry came down that evening, it was apparent that he was perfectly happy to be punished. Still high from his victory, he’d seen Severus’ expression and doubled down.

“You look angry,” he said. “Did I embarrass your precious Slytherins?” Bold as brass. It was obvious what he wanted.

“Welcome back, Wizard Prince,” Severus said, and crossed his arms.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” Harry answered him, pursing his lips. “It’s not my fault Malfoy didn’t show up to his own match. Not that he would have made much difference.” He moved to brush past, but Severus caught his wrist.

“Potter,” he said, squeezing hard.

“Am I _‘Potter’_ because I won?” 

_Alright, fine._ Severus grabbed him by the hair.

“Sparks,” he said. Harry grinned at him, his head tilted back by Severus’ grip, and shot sparks towards the ceiling. “Good. Get on your knees.”

Harry hadn’t gotten on his knees. Instead, he’d said, “Make me.”

That was one of his favorite things to say: _make me._

So, Severus made him. He used his belt, gave him ten hard lashes, and made him count. Then, he yanked him to the ground against the edge of the bed and fucked his mouth. Harry didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t show sparks, didn’t beg for mercy. He just took it, and took it, and got himself off, and afterwards he said _thank you,_ and snuggled up to Severus in bed until he stopped trembling.

He never said no. Never. He just demanded more until Severus wouldn’t give it. And if Severus tried to slow down, he would _push._ Provoke, and demand, and beg, until he got what he was after. And sometimes he wanted so much that Severus was afraid for him. No, not afraid _for_ him, afraid _of_ him. He was getting Severus to do things that he had never before wanted to do to another person. Things he had never even _thought_ _of_ before Harry started poking around in his imagination. Sometimes he regretted it. Sometimes, even though he was quite sure that it was what Harry wanted from him, he still felt guilty. 

Harry never showed sparks, but sometimes Severus wished that he would. 

_Stop me_ , he wanted to say. _Don’t you want me to stop?_

But Harry did not want him to stop. And slowly, _‘can you take more?’_ became, _‘how much more?’_ became, _‘Harry. No more.’_ And that, of course, usually became - _well, maybe a little more. It’s what he wants._

Severus found a reason to give Harper detention after that, and sent him to sort out flobberworms for Horace. Then, he called Harry back down and insisted on putting some salve on his bruises. He touched the marks carefully, as gently as he could, and Harry laughed at him and called him a hopeless romantic, and Severus called him a madman, and then sucked him off on the sofa. And afterwards they sent for wine, and played chess, and Harry lost. And then Harry wanted to go again, and Severus took him to bed. 

_[That salve vanished my bruises. Can I have some new ones?]_ They were right in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Severus looked over at him, sitting at his desk, innocent and apparently focused on his textbook, and thought, _Harry Potter wouldn’t tell me to stop if I staked him to the ground with a sword._

Severus didn’t answer him during class. Not until after midnight, in fact.

“Harry.”

_[Sir]_

“How are you feeling?”

_[Like I want you to hurt me]_

Severus raked his hand through his hair. “Oh?” he asked. “And why should I?”

_[I can break some rules if you want. Violate curfew. Steal something. Punch Malfoy in the face. Any requests?]_

Severus took a deep breath and summoned the bottle of scotch. There was only a little left and he took a swig. “You don’t need to make me angry to get what you want.”

_[No?]_

“No. You can just ask. You can just use your words.”

_[Call me and I’ll use as many words as you want]_

Severus called him, and when Harry appeared, Severus offered him the scotch and he took the last swallow. And then he backed himself up against the wall and said, “You want me to just ask?” Severus took the empty bottle from his hand and tossed it aside.

“Yes,” he said, boxing him in. Harry tipped his head back against the wall, and brought his hands up to rest on Severus’ chest. His touch was light. Almost tentative.

“Put me on my knees.” 

“Oh?” Severus asked, trying to pretend that every ounce of blood in his body wasn’t rushing into his cock. “Will you go this time?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry breathed, a mischievous little twinkle in his eye. “Yes, Sir.” Severus fisted a hand in his shirt and jerked downward, and he folded beautifully, right to the floor.

“Tell me what you want,” Severus said. 

“You remember after the match?” Harry asked, looking up at him. “Against the edge of the bed.” Severus did remember. Holding him still and just taking what he wanted. Harry had gotten off so hard he’d left deep scratches down the back of Severus’ right leg. They were still there, in fact. He brushed his fingers through Harry’s bangs and against his scalp.

“Yes.” he said. “This is not the edge of the bed.”

“No. This is the wall.”

“Less give, here.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and licked his lips. “Less give. I want you to push me. I want to see how far I can go. What do you think?” Severus let his eyes travel over his upturned face. His lips, and his eyes, and the mad glimmer within them. What did he think? He thought that sounded very dangerous, and also that he would give Harry his own head on a platter if that’s what he asked for.

“Show me your sparks, then,” he said, and Harry did, and Severus cupped his cheek. “I want you to promise me you’ll use them if I push too far.” Harry’s eyelids fluttered and his lips parted. 

_He’s about to lie to me._

“I promise,” Harry said, and raised his hands to Severus’ buttons.

Severus was already very hard by the time Harry freed him from his trousers, and almost throbbed as Harry exhaled slowly at the sight of him, and wet his lips a little more. With him on his knees like that, Severus would have to be a saint to say no. And he was not a saint. He was just a man.

“Open,” he said, and Harry closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, and then offered his hands to be held to the wall. And that - was a little too far. “No,” Severus said. “You’re going to need your hands.” Harry looked back up, and Severus could see in his expression that he didn’t want his hands. He didn’t want any agency at all. He wanted Severus to use him. _Just tie his hands behind his back and choke him with it. That’s what he wants. Look at his face._ “Harry, no.” Severus made his voice as stern as he could manage. “You need your hands. You need them to - keep me from - You need them.” 

Harry didn’t argue. He just closed his eyes again and let his arms fall into his lap, and held his head still against the wall as Severus tugged his mouth further open and began to press inside. Incremental, at first, past his lips, against his tongue, and then finally just touching his soft palate. Harry’s eyes squeezed tight, and he made a little surprised noise, and Severus could feel in the spasm of his throat that he wanted to jerk back, but he couldn’t. Because he was trapped. And fuck, it felt good, having him pinned like that. Knowing that it was what he _wanted_. 

Severus tried to moderate his pressure. He tried to give Harry plenty of space to say no. But after a moment, Harry’s hands came up to Severus’ legs and curled around them, tugging him closer, and Severus allowed himself to be pulled. Harry didn’t stop pulling, though, and at the insistence of his hands, Severus pressed in hard, all the way to the base, and stayed there. Deep inside, he began to rock his hips, never withdrawing enough to let him take a full breath. Harry’s fingers dug hard into the backs of his thighs, holding him in like that, and his throat worked, and his eyes clenched tight shut, and then a powerful tremor ran through him and he suddenly pushed back. Severus withdrew, and Harry gasped, and cursed, and swallowed hard.

“Fuck - ” he panted, and rested his forehead on Severus’ thigh. “That’s perfect - ” he swallowed again. “That’s - just - what I want. I can take more.” Then he pressed his head back against the wall and opened his mouth. 

And Severus had thought he was going to say stop. Silly to think that, really. 

This time, he tolerated Severus closing his throat like that for longer than he would have thought possible. For an alarmingly long time, in fact. And then Severus was the one who stopped it, holding Harry’s head to the wall and wrenching back. 

“Harry,” he moaned, digging his forehead into his arm as Harry gasped and panted. “ _Come on."_

“Don’t stop.” He could hardly get the words out, and there was a thin string of saliva stretching from his mouth to the head of Severus’ cock. And it was so vulgar and obscene and so terrible and so _wonderful_ that Severus could hardly stand it. “No sparks. I want more. I can take it.” He lifted his head to try to chase after him, but Severus held him still.

“No,” he said. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you to stop me.”

Harry’s teeth dragged over his lower lip and he spread his knees against the floor. Severus could see how hard he was, pushing against the seam of his trousers. “You’re gonna tell me no?” he asked. His voice was low and friction-rough, and he swallowed hard to clear it. “Go on, tell me no. Tell me I can’t have what I want.” Severus looked down at him and then closed his eyes. _Go on, Severus. You’re supposed to be in charge. Tell him no._

“Promise me you’ll stop me if it’s too much.”

“I already did.”

“Promise me again.”

“I promise,” Harry said, and tugged him back. This time, when Severus’s cock hit the back of his throat, he swallowed once, and then twice, twisting his fingers tight into Severus’ clothes like he was afraid he’d pull away again, and then he swallowed one more time, and he - _relaxed_ \- and Severus felt himself slide deeper than he had ever been before. Not _to_ his throat. Into it. He gasped.

“Oh _fuck -_ ” His hips twitched forward unconsciously, and _god -_ Harry pushed him back, hard, and he went, and Harry coughed painfully, and inhaled once, and then pulled him right back in. 

Severus felt like he was being dragged into madness, being made to do this. No, that was a lie. He wasn’t being _made_ to do anything. He wanted to do it. And Harry wanted it done to him, so - why not? And he’d promised to show sparks if it was too much. He’d promised twice _._

_You know he’s lying. You KNOW he is._

Severus sank both of his hands into Harry’s black hair and held his head still. And as he took control, Harry let out a truly gorgeous whimper. 

“You can take anything, can’t you?” Severus growled, filling his mouth, seeking out that exquisite, forbidden last inch. Harry’s hands in his clothes fisted and then relaxed, and then fisted again. He was flushed, and his eyelashes were wet. “All the way. What a good boy.” Harry moaned around him, and his fingers dug hard into Severus thighs. He was pulling again, and Severus obeyed, pressing in and in until he felt Harry’s breath against his skin absolutely stop. Then he stayed like that. Cutting off his air. Not still, though, but moving - pulsing - so gently. And he stayed, and stayed, and _stayed_. And still, Harry held him close. Held him in like that - all the way in. And Severus knew he couldn’t breathe. He knew that the amount of oxygen that his brain was getting at that moment was exactly zero.

Harry’s fingers tightened brutally, and Severus was absolutely sure that he was close to yielding. He would show sparks, any moment now. Any moment, he would tell Severus to stop. Any moment, surely. He’d promised he would. He’d promised twice.

But he didn’t.

And then he went limp _._

Severus saw it, and jerked back, and Harry sucked in a single, desperate breath, and Severus slapped him. Hard. Right across the face.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he snarled. “If you pass out, _I swear to god_ \- ”

“No - ” Harry gasped. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t going to.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” Severus seized his hair again and turned his face up. “If you refuse to protect yourself I’ll never do this again.” 

“I won’t,” Harry yelped. His cheek was red, and below his eye, the faint outline of Severus’ index finger. “I swear. Please - please don’t stop.” 

_Oh._

Looking down at him like that, Severus suddenly understood that Harry had no interest in being taken to the edge. He wanted to be taken _over it._ And no matter how far Snape pushed him, he would never push back. Because Harry did not know where the line was. This was just like flying full-tilt towards the ground. Like breaking into the ministry. Like cornering Severus in Number Twelve. He had no idea what was dangerous and what wasn’t. Or if he knew, he didn’t care.

Well. 

He would have to be taught to care, then, wouldn’t he?

Severus dragged him to his feet against the wall.

“You’re done,” he hissed, pinning him there. “You promised, and you lied, and that’s all you get.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasped. “I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide. “I didn’t mean to - ” Severus clapped a hand over his mouth, and dug his fingers in. Harry squeaked in fear.

“Stop lying,” he growled. “Right now. Yes?” Harry nodded. “Listen to me. Take a shower. Wash your face, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed. If you do that, I might let you stay. Understand?” He nodded again. “Go.”

Severus released him, and he sagged against the wall, and then bolted into the bathroom. And when he was gone, Severus tucked himself back into his trousers, and pressed his forehead against the stones, trying to control his breathing. He stayed there until he heard the water start to run, and then sat on the sofa to wait.

Harry stayed, in the end, and slept in his arms, as warm, and soft, and docile as you please. And in the morning, Severus made him tea, and served him breakfast, and then fucked him over the table, and dragged his head back, and made him swear to never lie again. And he did swear, and he begged for forgiveness, and Severus forgave him. And later that day, Severus had sixth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts, and could almost look him in the eye. Almost. Because, of course, he had loved every minute of pinning Harry to the wall, and then terrifying him, and then comforting him, and feeding him, and getting him off. And he loved seeing Harry sitting there in his class, submissive, and excellent, and gorgeous, and being the only one that knew how he’d been on his knees, demanding more. It was like their own secret world. Just the two of them, together. 

Secret, forbidden, and honest. Together, in the dark.


	5. Closer

Of course, it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t all fire and fury. There was kindness, too, and even friendship, in a way. There were nights spent in front of the fire, curled up together. There were long conversations. There was touching, and teasing, and laughter, sometimes. And every once in a while, peace. Sleep, and quiet, and even … tenderness. When Harry would allow it. 

Severus discovered as the days slipped past that Harry didn’t just like being kissed, he loved it. It was the one gentle thing he would regularly tolerate, and when Harry was in a certain mood, Severus found that he could turn him to absolute putty just by kissing him. That was his favorite way of making Harry submit, he found. No force, no pain, just kissing and kissing him until he went weak. 

But he liked the other ways, too. 

Severus knew quite a lot about Harry already, of course, and over time learned still more, and not just about his body. Harry, though, knew next to nothing about him. And for a while, Severus tried to keep it that way. He let Harry lay bare his soul under his hands, and gave nothing of substance in return. But slowly, despite his attempts to remain aloof, things began to slip out. Small things, at first. 

Harry learned that Severus started teaching Potions at the tender age of twenty-one, and was the youngest Hogwarts Professor ever appointed. He learned that Snape’s parents had both died years ago, and that he missed his mother, but not his father. He learned that Severus had always wanted to play seeker, but was never quite fast enough. That Severus did not have much of a sweet tooth, but quite liked chips. Small things. And then, some larger things. His history began to leak out in the quiet interludes between their moments of frantic, desperate need. Whispers of his past. His regrets. His fears - coaxed out by Harry’s quiet, patient questioning. 

It became clear that Harry wanted badly to know him. 

Sometimes, at night, naked and spent, Harry would try to explore his body. At first, Severus did not like it at all. It made him feel too exposed. It was too intimate. And the first time, Severus knocked his hand away. But Harry hadn’t been afraid, and hadn’t given up. Instead, he’d asked again, and said ‘please,’ and in the end, Severus decided that it was just another thing that Harry wanted. And Harry was almost impossible to deny once he’d been raked across the coals. He was sweet, and soft, and calm, and beautiful. And Severus loved him. So, he allowed it. He allowed him to look at, and touch, his many scars. The Dark Mark, too, when he wanted that. And he let him ask questions, and sometimes even answered them. 

He let Harry run his fingers over the evidence of his most closely held history. Over parts of his body that absolutely no one had ever touched with his consent.

“What’s this?”

“I was stabbed.”

“Who stabbed you?”

“It isn’t important.”

“And this?”

“Potions accident.”

“This one?”

“That’s nothing.”

“Alright.”

Harry’s hands on his scars began to feel almost good to him, after a while. The way Harry touched him, it was almost like his past did not blight him the way he’d always thought it did. Like his scars weren’t shameful. Like they weren’t ugly. Like he was just a man, with his lover, instead of everything else he was.

Once Harry asked about Lily, too, in the absolute darkness of the dungeons so Severus could not see his face. He asked about her very quietly, almost like he was afraid to hear the answer, and Severus had only barely been able to understand him.

“Your mother?” he asked, carefully smoothing over the tingle of dread that bubbled up in him. He’d hoped, maybe stupidly, that this would never come up.

“Yes,” Harry whispered back. “You - you knew her, didn’t you? I saw… a bit of her in your...” _in your pensieve,_ he didn’t say. 

Severus looked into the dark, and wondered what it was he wanted to hear. If he wanted to know what sort of person she had been, or how he had known her, or … what?

“Yes, I knew her,” he began. “She was an extraordinary witch. She was my first friend.”

“At Hogwarts?”

“Ever.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

“She was a brilliant potioneer, as Horace has told you,” he said, moderating his voice. Speaking slowly. Controlled. Calm. “Talented, and meticulous. And … she was kind. She was the kindest person I ever knew. And very funny.” There was a silence.

“You loved her,” Harry said.

“I did.”

“What happened?”

_I killed her._

Severus thought for a while. What could he say? “Well,” he took a breath. “I changed. She was always just the same. I let her down, and I betrayed her.”

“I saw some of that I think.”

“No, what you saw was nothing. Back then, I was a budding Deatheater. She was right to hate me.” Severus paused, and Harry’s fingers found him in the darkness, touching him gently on the shoulder. Comforting him. How absurd. _Tell him the truth. If he hates you, you deserve it. You should have told him already. Coward._ “I tried to save her. I tried to save you, too. I went to Dumbledore as soon as I knew, but it wasn’t enough.”

“You knew?” 

_Go on, say it out loud. I killed her._

“I knew. I heard the prophecy. I told it to the Dark Lord. But when I heard it… I didn’t know that it was her. That it was her son. And when I did know, I tried to stop it.”

“It was you. You told him.”

“Yes.” _I killed her. I killed her._

Harry didn’t speak for a long time, but his hand did not withdraw. In fact, it touched him a little more firmly. Almost holding on to him. Severus had to crush the urge to cringe away. 

_I KILLED HER. How can you still touch me like this?_

“You failed,” Harry said, after a while. 

“Yes. For me, it was the end of following Him. I turned, and I never went back.” 

“Did she know?”

“That I failed her?”

“That you loved her.” Harry turned a little more onto his side and breathed against his upper arm, and then Severus felt the gentle press of his lips, and the tickle of his hair, as he rested his forehead there. _Hate me, come on. Aren’t you listening?_

“I don’t know.”

“I saw her in the mirror of Erised, before Dumbledore took it away. She was beautiful,” Harry said, and a fresh rush of remorse rippled down from Severus’ heart and into his belly. Lily, in the mirror of Erised. He wondered what he would see there, now, if he looked. 

“She was. She was like a candle in the dark.” 

Another long pause. Severus wanted to say more, about how much she had meant to him, about how she had defended him against his accusers, about all the time they had spent together. His best friend, his only friend. About how sorry he was. For all of his terrible mistakes. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

“I wish I could have known her, at least a little,” Harry breathed. “I miss her, but how can I? I don’t even know who she was.”

Severus covered Harry’s hand with his own. “I miss her too,” he said. 

_Hate me._

_Why don’t you hate me?_

Harry’s hand slipped out from underneath his, and for a moment Severus was almost relieved, thinking that he was pulling away. But then his hand reappeared on Severus’ jaw, and then moved to his cheek, coaxing him closer. And then Harry was kissing him. His forgiveness, if that was what it was, felt like being burned alive, but Severus did not push him away, and Harry did not withdraw. And right then, it felt like maybe he never would. That no horrific revelation could turn him away. No sin, no crime, could be enough to drive a wedge between them. That maybe, if there was any justice, they could stay together, in the end.

  
  


Harry talked about his life, too, and the petty drama of the student body. Severus learned how annoying it was that Mr. Weasley and Miss Brown wouldn’t stop trying to eat each other in the common room. He learned that Miss Granger was enraged by this more than anyone, and confused, and hurt. His friends were in love and in denial, the pair of them. Or so Harry said. He spoke about the people that were interested in him and liked to follow him around. The Creevey brothers, and Miss Vane, and others. He told Severus about rejecting offers of food and drink, as he’d been instructed. Miss Vane had apparently tried multiple times. Gillywater, and tea, and pumpkin juice, and finally Chocolate Cauldrons. He’d taken the last one, he said, but hadn’t eaten any, sure that they were spiked with love potion. Severus thought it was quite amazing that someone would go to such extreme lengths to get Harry to invite them to a party. Harry told him that people were driving him absolutely mad about the damn party, and asked him what he’d have to do to get detention outside of term so he could get out of it. Severus told him that short of getting expelled, there was no way around it, and Harry said it might be worth it. Getting expelled.

And then, he told Severus that the Weasley’s were expecting him for Christmas. Severus should have anticipated this, but somehow he hadn’t. Christmas. Was it that time already?

They were laying together in bed when he said it. It was late, and Severus had already put out the light, as usual. Harry seemed to like to talk about hard things in the dark. Severus supposed it made him feel less vulnerable.

“You should go,” Severus said, drawing his fingers lightly down Harry’s bare arm, and across the scar the Basilisk fang had left on him. He could only just feel it - a shallow furrow in his otherwise perfectly soft skin.

“Should I? I was hoping maybe I could stay.”

“You wouldn’t be allowed to stay down here with me.”

“No?”

Severus tried to imagine what Albus would say. Maybe he would turn a blind eye, as he had done so far. After their last meeting, it was possible. Then again, Albus might not even be at the school. Maybe Harry _could_ stay. Maybe no one would notice if Harry disappeared into the dungeons for two whole weeks, and came out again absolutely covered with teeth marks. Maybe. 

“The Weasleys adore you,” Severus answered, and even in the dark, he could feel Harry’s gaze on him, and could hear the unasked question in the air: _Don’t you?_

“What will you do if I go?”

 _Miss you_.

“I’m quite accustomed to a solitary holiday here at school.” He turned onto his back and Harry moved closer, laying his head on Severus’ chest. 

“I don’t know why they want me to come all of a sudden. I usually stay at Hogwarts.” 

_Why?_

Severus would want to check on him, too, if he wasn’t right here, in his bed. Of course they wanted to see him. He’d been gone since the start of term and hadn’t been well at all when he left. He’d been unconscious, and bleeding from the eyes. 

Harry, his touch lazy and comfortable, began to draw nonsense patterns on Severus’ skin. Over his chest, and collarbone, and then to his shoulder, lingering over the constellation of raised, keloided scars there. These were particular favorites of Harry’s, though Severus could not imagine why. 

“They want you to come because they love you, and they don’t want you to be alone,” he said.

“I’m not alone.”

“They think you are.”

Harry didn’t speak for a while. “What if I can’t sleep?” he said finally. “Without you, I mean.” Severus tugged him a little closer, and touched his hair. 

“We will have the bracelets,” he said. “And I’ll send some Dreamless Sleep with you, if you like.” 

“Ok.” 

“I think it would be good for you to go. To get out of the castle for a while.”

“Getting tired of me, are you?” His voice was light, but Severus could tell that he was really asking. The fool. As if Severus wouldn’t keep him here if he could. 

“Don’t be daft,” he said.

Harry pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart, and then laid his cheek there. “If you think I should go, I’ll go.”

“It’s only two weeks. Surely you won’t shrivel up and die for lack of my attention.” Harry scoffed gently. “And I can always call you back, if that is what you need.”

“That would be rude. To just disappear.”

“Yes it would be. Emergencies only. Don’t you remember?”

***

As Christmas loomed, Severus began to notice the crowds of girls that coalesced underneath the corridor mistletoe when Harry passed by. In one way, Severus found this terribly hilarious. In another way, though, it made him wish desperately that he could lay claim to Potter publicly. To sit next to him at dinner. To escort him to Horace’s party. Even just to talk to him where other people could see, instead of having him only in secret. But that was something he would never have, so he tried to put it out of his mind. He tried to find it funny how many other people wanted him. Other students, girls and boys his own age. Severus told himself that it _was_ funny, instead of tragic. Sometimes he even believed it, particularly when Harry himself was overcome with laughter at the thought of all these strangers thinking they had a chance at him.

“It would be so much easier if everyone knew,” he said one night. His head was on Severus’ lap and he was practicing wandlessly summoning tendrils of ivy out of thin air. There was a pile of it on the floor beside the sofa, green and vibrant. “No one would dare look at me if they knew whose I was.”

 _Are you mine?_ Severus wanted to ask. These days it felt like Harry was leading him around on a string. And he was happy to be led. With all the guilt, and the fear, and the bleak future, and with all the terrible things Harry wanted from him - he was as close to happy as he had ever been. 

There was another problem now, though. Potter had become so large in his mind by this time that Severus had to work very hard to keep him compartmentalized. It took a lot of magic, and a lot of dedicated focus. And he couldn’t practice it when Harry was there with him, that was impossible. There was just too much of him. And when Harry was in front of him, close enough to touch, there was nothing for it. The boy had invaded every corner of his mind - had inserted himself into the very foundations of his thoughts. But Severus would rather die than allow the Dark Lord to see any of this, so, whenever he was alone, he practiced folding up the immensity of his feelings for the boy into a little origami square. A tiny concentrated crystal. A distilled spirit. Something small enough to be hidden in the dungeons of his memories. It was critical that Severus be able to hide him, but sometimes it felt impossible. He just kept breaking out.

Over Christmas maybe he could fix it. When Harry was away, he could turn all of his unspent energy into his Occlumency. All the energy that was currently being directed into satisfying Potter’s every whim. Surely that would be enough. It felt like enough to power the sun. 

***

At the last possible moment, when it became clear that there was, indeed, no way around it, Harry asked Luna to be his date to Slughorn’s party. The ripples of this decision ricocheted around the castle so fast that Harry felt like he had whiplash. Why everyone cared so much about his personal business was a mystery to him. Even Peeves got in on the action, soaring through the corridors singing, “Potty loves Looney! Potty LOOOOOVES LOONEY!” at the top of his lungs. 

It didn’t bother Harry too much. He’d been through much worse whispering during his time at Hogwarts. Taking an unpopular girl out to a Christmas party was hardly in the same league as being accused of setting Slytherin’s monster on the student body. And he’d chosen Luna because she was his friend, and because she seemed lonely, and because he was pretty sure she would annoy the living daylights out of Severus. And Severus had refused to get him out of the blasted party, so he deserved to be annoyed. 

Luna did not let him down. She behaved so bizarrely from the very first moment, that it was almost as if she knew that was what he wanted her for. Almost the first thing out of her mouth was that the Minister of Magic was a vampire. Amazing.

***

Severus saw Harry arrive with his date, the Lovegood girl. He looked quite dapper in a burgundy oxford shirt and tie, with black vest and jacket. And she, rather odd, in a spangled silver number that was quite blinding even in the low light. Severus melted into the shadows as they entered the room, content to observe, and watched as Horace found them almost at once, and seemed to be attempting to facilitate a book deal. Then, he watched as Miss Granger appeared, and Harry slipped away with her. Severus drifted closer to where they were sequestered behind the hangings and waited. After a while, Granger bolted, and a very tall young man took her place. Some Gryffindor clod, by the look of him. Severus could not recall his name. He waited for a while, deliberating, and then decided to relieve Potter of the obligation of entertaining whoever he was. 

Summoning his most forbidding expression, he swept the emerald curtains aside, and glowered in at them. The tall boy looked around and turned white, and then backed out so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. 

“Oh,” Harry said, turning to look at him, too. “Hi.”

“Good evening, Potter,” Severus answered. Harry’s eyes traveled deliberately from his collar down to his boots and back up again, and Severus squashed the urge to preen. “You look very handsome,” he said instead. Harry regarded him steadily for a long moment.

“I must. You’re looking at me like you’re thinking about undressing me.”

Severus glanced over his shoulder before answering. “I think about undressing you every time I see you.”

“And my date?” Harry asked, his mouth twisting charmingly into a small half-smile.

“She looks like the north star,” Severus answered. “Very hard to look at directly. Although she does seem to be shielding you from a certain amount of attention. What is that?” Harry looked into his cup.

“Some kind of mead. Not as good as what you’ve got.”

“I doubt that Horace is trying to get you drunk.”

“He might be.” Harry frowned. “I think he wants royalties on a Harry Potter Biography.”

“Well,” Severus began. “Hopefully it isn’t too thorough. I would have a lot of explaining to do.” Harry laughed once and then his expression became serious. 

“I like this coat,” he said, shifting forward and reaching out to touch his high, notched collar. “It makes you look like a priest.” Severus blocked his hand and pushed it to the side.

“Your body language is deeply conspicuous.” 

“Is it?” Harry leaned back against the wall, looking at him from under his eyelashes. “In what way?” Severus was quite partial to that look, and he moved a millimeter closer without thinking. Then he moved back. Anyone that saw them standing here would surely know immediately that something was amiss. Sometimes Severus was surprised that the electricity between them didn’t manifest literally. The way it felt, he expected sparks and bolts of lightning. Harry gave him another little smile.

“We could go,” he said. “We could go right now.” The rest of that sentence was unspoken: _and_ _you could have me any way you want._ But Severus didn’t need to hear it. He could see it. In Harry’s eyes, and his posture, and his expression. It had been three whole days since Severus had laid hands on him, after all. And he looked like he was _hurting_. 

“And leave your date? She’s covering for you just now with Sybill. That would be so unkind.” Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Fine,” he said. “You’ll just have to wait, then.”

“I’ll wait,” Severus answered him. “I have all night.” It was their last night together before Christmas break, as Harry well knew. “Go on back out to the party now, Potter. People will think you’re getting into trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered him, and when he brushed past, Severus felt his fleeting touch as it skated over his chest and down his arm. Reckless to do that - to touch him where someone else might see. Foolhardy. 

Severus looked after him, regretting letting him go. He could have just taken him to the dungeons right then, after all. Then his bracelet warmed.

 _[Thanks for scaring off McLaggen]_ appeared. _[You’re so terrifying]_ Severus almost laughed, but withheld it. _[It really turns me on]_ Potter had joined Lovegood and Professor Trelawney, and was apparently listening with rapt attention to their conversation. He had his hands behind his back, with one finger in his sleeve. _[I’d have liked you to put me on my knees just then]_ Severus took a deep breath. _[Knock me down. Pin my head to the wall. I can do better than last time. I’ll do whatever you say]_

“Severus!” Horace had found him. “Why in blazes are you hiding back here?” He’d let his guard down reading Potter’s filthy messages, and now he was cornered. Served him right getting so distracted. Horace roped him out from behind the hangings and immediately dragged him directly over to Potter. And now he had to look at Harry close up and pretend that his hands weren’t burning with the need to touch him. Easy. He was an expert at duplicity, and could Occlude his innermost thoughts perfectly, even while in mortal peril. This stupid party was nothing. Even though Harry was _right there_.

Horace was going on about Potter’s ‘talent’ for Potions, and the boy gave him a little wink before schooling his face into a look of utmost humility. 

“You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death - never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus - ” Slughorn was quite visibly drunk, and so was Sybill, for that matter, “- could have done better!”

“Really?” Severus asked, looking down his nose with his best expression of disdain. Harry glared right back at him. 

_He’s getting better at this._

Slughorn turned the conversation to Potter’s other classes and his ambition to become an Auror, and then began to gush over his academic and magical prowess in general. Harry was only just starting to look uncomfortable when Miss Lovegood interrupted.

“I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,” she said. Severus looked at her, interested. What could she mean by that? Harry would make an excellent Auror. “The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They’re working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease.” Severus almost spat out his drink. And Harry _did_ spit his out, and then inhaled half of it up his nose as he started to laugh. Horace began beating him on the back as he choked and spluttered.

“Professor Slughorn!” 

It was Argus, interrupting the mayhem. And he had Draco Malfoy by the ear. Draco, who had refused to meet with him, who had ignored his entreaties and his detentions for _weeks_. Here he was, alone, trying to gate-crash, like an absolute imbecile. Fantastic.

***

Severus wasted no time in cornering him outside the party. This was perhaps his only remaining chance to convince Draco to confide in him, and he seemed close to cracking. The pressure he was under was visible in his ashen complexion and the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked grey, and tired, and critically weakened. If there was an opening, Severus would find it tonight. 

Draco did not make it easy, though. He was arrogant, oppositional, and contrary, and Bellatrix had apparently been teaching him Occlumency. Even when Severus told him about the unbreakable vow he had made to Narcissa, he was unmoved.

“Looks like you’ll have to break it, then, because I don’t need your protection!” he shouted. “It’s my job, he gave it to me and I’m doing it, I’ve got a plan and it’s going to work, it’s just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!” He sounded almost hysterical. Not at all like an agent of the Dark Lord, confidently executing his orders. More like a prisoner.

“And what is your plan? If you just tell me, I can help you - ”

Draco would not tell him anything. He would not admit to the necklace, or reveal his accomplices. He was acting reckless, and childish, and Severus told him so. Only a child would speak in terms of _glory_. This was war, real war, and Draco did not seem to understand that. He was thinking only of restoring honor to his family name, as if that were possible at this late stage. The fool. He was not grasping the gravity of his situation. Severus would have to lay it out for him.

“I quite understand that your father’s capture and imprisonment has upset you,” he began. “But - ” He had no chance to finish. Draco turned and fled. Just … ran away. 

Severus stood very still as the door banged against the wall. What could he do? He couldn’t go chasing after him through the corridors. Cornering him had done no good. His Occlumency had been relatively strong, and Albus would hardly allow him to torture it out of him. What could he do? 

There was a soft voice from the door. Severus’ heart almost stopped.

“Hey.” Harry’s head appeared as he pulled down his cloak. “That’s not good, is it?” Severus gaped at him.

“Potter,” he said. “You didn’t follow me. You _didn’t.”_

“Come on, of course I followed you.” He didn’t take off the rest of the cloak, but remained a disembodied head floating in the doorway. _Of course I followed you. You’re an idiot, Severus._ “I’ve never heard him speak to you that way before.” He’d heard everything. 

“My students have recently gotten into the habit of being very disrespectful.” Severus meant it to sound lighthearted but it came out angry. Harry just looked at him.

“Is this one of those things you’re not supposed to tell me about?” 

“Yes. It is.”

“Shall I forget I ever heard it?” his mouth quirked up at the corner, knowing that he was offering something that he could not possibly deliver.

“You expect me to believe you’re capable of leaving this alone?” 

“I’m capable of obeying you, aren’t I?”

“Occasionally.”

Then Harry did pull off the rest of the cloak, and walked over to where Severus was standing in the middle of the empty classroom. 

“Dumbledore knows?” he asked.

“Yes,” Severus answered. Harry laid his hands on Severus’ chest.

“Then what business is it of mine?” He stood on his tiptoes to kiss him, and Severus was quite sure he was being deliberately disarmed. That didn’t stop it from working, though. Severus wanted to kiss him. Wanted to take him to bed. Wanted to distract himself from this newest failure, and all the failures to come. And if Harry knew that Draco was up to something - that he was a Deatheater, now - did it really change anything? Harry had faced Lucius in battle at the Ministry. Surely he already knew much more than he’d said.

Severus took control of the kiss, and when Harry melted against him, pushed him back against the wall. Harry gasped, and, oh, yes, that was perfect. That was just what Severus wanted. Submission.

“Right here?” Harry breathed. “Anyone could see.” Severus blinked. He’d almost forgotten where they were.

“No, I suppose not.” He pulled away.

“I’d do it, though,” Harry said, tugging him back in. “I’d get on my knees, right here, if you told me to.” Right then, Severus found that he rather did want that. Harry really brought out his irrational streak. 

“Potter.”

“No?” Harry’s hands pulled at him again, and Severus knew that he wanted to be knocked back. So, he gave him what he wanted - knocked him back, hard, and then pinned him to the wall by the throat. The noise that came out of him made Severus waver in his decision not to just fucking have him. Right here, in this empty classroom, a hundred meters from Slughorn’s party. Harry grabbed his wrist. “ _Oh -_ that’s - I like that a lot.”

“I know you do,” Severus purred back at him, tightening his fingers until Harry’s lips parted. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“I followed you,” Harry said.

“Yes you did.”

“You didn’t like it.”

“No, I did not.” Harry’s eyes were half closed, and Severus knew that he was going to want something terrible tonight. He leaned closer until their lips were almost touching. “Go back to the party, Potter,” he said. “Make a proper exit. Say goodbye to your friends. I’ll call when you’re done.” Harry swallowed under his hand. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

  
  



	6. Ask

It took almost half an hour for Harry to make his excuses and escape from the festivities. Luna was still engrossed in conversation with Trelawney, and the pair of them were unwilling to let him go without regaling him with a weird combination of conspiracy theories and dire pronouncements about his near and distant future. Once he’d finally bid them goodnight, and successfully snuck out without Slughorn seeing him, he went straight into the nearest boys bathroom and touched his wrist.

_Ready._

When Harry appeared, Severus was waiting for him on the sofa, dressed in his shirtsleeves. He didn’t get up, and Harry moved to stand in front of him, a little wave of anxiety making his legs feel unsteady. Severus leaned back in his seat like royalty and looked up at him.

“I won’t let your disregard for my privacy ruin my last night with you,” he said evenly. “Though I am still angry.” Harry shifted a bit on his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. “Mm,” Severus murmured. “Look at you. So contrite.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, and then when Severus raised an eyebrow at him, “Sir.” Severus moved his feet apart and beckoned, and Harry stepped forward to stand between his legs. He almost dropped to the floor right then, but controlled himself. He wasn’t sure what Snape was going to do with him, but it seemed like it wasn’t that, so he stayed perfectly still as Severus touched one finger to his tie.

“You do look very handsome,” Severus said, drawing his fingertip down the burgundy silk. “I can see why half the school is pining after you.” 

“Are they?” Harry breathed, another shiver of nerves rolling through him. He’d gotten himself into trouble. Bad trouble. He could feel it - like an electric charge. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I notice.” Severus closed his fingers around the tie and tugged, pulling him forward until his legs touched the edge of the sofa. “Pity none of them will ever have you.” When Harry didn’t speak, Severus pushed him back and stood over him. “Will they?”

“No,” Harry said, feeling the ghost of Severus’ hand around his neck. “Never.”

“Because you’re mine.” 

“Yeah.” Harry reached out to touch the fine cotton of his shirt. “I’m yours. You can do anything you want with me.” He paused. “You could punish me. For following you. If you wanted to.” 

“I think you want me to punish you,” Severus said, taking hold of his wrists and squeezing them tight in his fingers. “You’re so meddlesome. Sneaking around under that cloak. You must want something appalling.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, relaxing his hands in Severus’ grip and looking up at him. “I think I do.”

Severus squeezed a little harder. Squeezed until Harry let out one of those soft little _‘ oh_ _’_ sounds that he liked so much. “Tell me,” he said. 

“I want bruises.”

“That is not specific enough. Try again.”

Harry’s eyes flicked away from his face and he swallowed. 

“I want… I want bruises that I can take to the Burrow with me,” he said. “Bad ones. I want them to last all holiday.” 

“You want marks that will last for two weeks?” _Merlin, the things he asked for._

“Yeah,” Harry drew him in a little with the grip on his wrists. “I want to look at them every day I’m gone. I want to feel them every time I move. Feel who I belong to. You could do that for me, couldn’t you?”

His manipulation was so blatant and yet it still worked so well. Severus didn’t know how much of this Harry was controlling consciously, but his body language was so incredibly submissive that Severus could feel it dragging the urge to dominate out of the very depths of his soul. The desire to hurt him, waking up, twisting low and hot in his belly and seizing his insides like a fist. If Harry wanted bruises deep enough to last two weeks, then that’s what he was going to get. 

“Sparks,” Severus said. Harry carefully directed them away from his face. “Very good.”

Severus took him into the bedroom and undressed him at his leisure, piece by piece. The black jacket, and then the vest. The deep red tie, and the silk shirt. He undid the buttons slowly, enjoying the way his skin looked against the burgundy fabric. He knelt down, untied his shoes, and slipped each one free. Then his belt, and his slacks, and his underwear. When Harry was naked, Severus stood in front of him, rolled up his sleeves, and summoned a long, thin, wicked-looking switch out of the air. Harry’s eyes followed it as he caught it in his hand, and tapped the end against his palm.

“Face the wall,” he said. “Show your hands.” Harry did as he was told, turning towards the wall and putting his hands flat on the stones. “ _Incarcerous._ ” Severus directed his wand to Harry’s wrists and then up to the ceiling, fixing his arms in place over his head. He gave him a little bit of slack, too, in case he wanted to struggle. “Shall I do your ankles?” he asked. “Or will you behave?”

“Ankles too,” Harry breathed.

“Separate your feet.” He fastened each foot to the floor, and then stood back to look at his smooth, even skin. “How easy do you want it to be to hide the marks?” 

“I want it to be impossible.”

“Mm. You’re very impulsive.” Severus trailed the end of the switch down his spine. “I’ll have to protect you from yourself, won’t I?” _As usual._ Harry didn’t speak, just pressed his forehead to the wall and breathed. Severus tapped him lightly on the thigh. “This is going to hurt more than you think it will.”

“Good,” Harry answered, his face turned down towards the floor. “Surprise me.”

Severus gave him a sharp rap in the same spot, and he flinched and sucked in a breath. A thin red line slowly appeared where he’d been struck.

“Are you sure?” Severus asked. He’d hardly used even a tenth of his strength, and he’d already gotten a flinch. 

“Yes I’m sure,” Harry began. “Stop fucking asking me - ”

Severus hit him hard across the shoulder blades and his words sheared off, as if his very thoughts had been severed. A tiny, breathy obscenity came out of him as he exhaled.

“How many of those would you like?” Severus asked quietly, tracing the raised welt with his fingers. 

“Just - hit me,” Harry answered. He was already breathing hard and Severus had hardly touched him. 

“As you wish.”

Severus hit him again across the shoulders, and then diagonally down his back. The marks appeared quickly, turning from white to pink and then to red and purple as they developed. He moved lower, working his way down Harry’s body, leaving stinging red lashes in his wake. Doubling them, crossing them, making them darker and more painful. Enjoying the way he jerked and yelped in his restraints. He was obviously trying very hard to stay silent, though Severus could not imagine why he should care what sounds he made. And Severus did not like it when he tried to hide.

“You’re trying to be quiet.” Severus gave him another across the back, the tip wrapping around his ribs like a whip, and he jumped and pressed his lips together. “Why are you trying to be quiet?” Harry’s arms yanked downward against the cords as if he thought he could break them.

“Why are you holding back?” he demanded. “I’m not that _fragile._ ”

Severus hit him once, very hard, across the backs of his thighs and his knees buckled.

“Am I holding back?” Severus asked, watching him pant, hanging from his tied hands. “Stand up.” He cut the switch through the air, and Harry flinched and got his feet back under him. Severus moved to stand directly behind him, not quite touching, but close enough for Harry to feel his body heat. “You’re trying to push me,” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed back. “I am.”

“Use your words, Potter.”

“Harder.”

“Harder?” Severus repeated.

“Hit me. Harder.” He paused. “Please.”

Severus hit him harder, as hard as he dared, across his back, and his ass, and his thighs, until he stopped trying to be quiet. He cried out freely, and gasped, and jerked, and cursed, and his arms flexed against the cords, rubbing his wrists an angry red. That would be a mark, too, and hard to hide. Just what he wanted. Severus worked him over until the back of his body was a tracery of red and purple, and he was quivering with the effort of staying on his feet.

“Have you had enough?” Severus asked. “You won’t soon heal from this.”

“No,” Harry moaned. A drop of sweat trickled down his back, diverted this way and that over the forest of raised welts. “More.”

“No more,” Severus answered. 

“More. Harder.” 

“If I hit you any harder I’ll draw blood.” 

Harry’s arms flexed again, the muscles in his shoulders tensing and bunching. 

“So cut me.”

“ _No_.” Severus grabbed the back of his hair and tugged his head off the wall. “I’ve given you what you asked for. Bruises. No more.”

“You want to see me bleed. I _know_ you do.”

“I’ve seen you bleed, Potter, and I have no desire to see it again.”

“You’re a fucking _liar_.”

Well, certainly that was true. Severus’ whole life was held together by lies. But was he lying now? He didn’t think so. 

He brushed the side of the switch gently down Harry’s arm, and over his ribs, and Harry whimpered and shied away as much as the restraints would allow. And after what he’d just asked for, that sweet, pitiful little whimper seemed like an act. _Hit me harder - Cut me - You want to see me bleed._ And then, what? _Please don’t hurt me - I’m at your mercy - Look how afraid I am._ Harry was trying to provoke him into doing something he would regret. And he was trying hard. 

Why? 

“You’re angry,” Severus said after a moment. 

“I’m not,” Harry began, but Severus fisted the hand in his hair, twisting it, and he stopped, mid-lie. He tried to turn his face into the wall, but Severus didn’t allow it. 

“Why are you angry? Tell me.”

“I’m angry because you’re a coward who won’t hit me as hard as I want.” He said it in a rush like he was afraid of what would happen after it was out. And then, defiantly, “ _Sir."_

And even though Severus knew exactly what he was doing, it _still worked._ He wanted to slam his head against the stones. Cut him to ribbons. Eviscerate him. Harry was so good at this. It was dangerous. It was fucking _deadly._

“Tell me the truth or I’ll stop right now,” Severus said, and moved closer, pressing up against Harry’s back. “Don’t think I’m not strong enough to stop. I’ve shown you that I am strong enough. I’ll stop, and I’ll leave you here.” Harry’s hands turned into fists where they were trapped and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Tell me why you’re angry. Now, please.” 

“You-” he began, but broke off.

“What? What have I done?” Harry’s whole body tensed up like he wanted to flee. 

“You’re-” his breath seized. “ _You’re sending me away_.” His voice cracked and he shrank away from Severus’ body and towards the wall. It was a meaningless gesture. He was bound hand and foot. There was nowhere to go. 

_Sending him?_

This wasn’t anger. 

This was _fear._

“No,” Severus said, dropping the switch, trying his best to purge all of the rage out of his voice. “I’m not sending you away. I’m not.” Harry was pressing himself hard into the stones as if Severus were made of hot coals. Or ice. Hurting him with his words, with his very skin. 

“You _are,_ ” he gasped, pulling down so hard on the ropes that Severus was concerned for his hands.

“No, no,” Severus reached up to clasp his trapped wrists. “Stop that.” Harry jerked his arms down again, savagely. “Potter, stop that. Stop. _Relashio!”_ The bonds severed, and Harry collapsed like a house of cards. Severus caught him and then turned him around, pushing his back up against the wall. “I’m not sending you anywhere,” he said, holding him still. “I’m _allowing_ _you_ to go. You think if I had my way I’d let you out of my sight for even a single day? A single hour?”

Harry gasped and winced as the stones scraped against his welts. “You’ve - sent me away before. How is this any different?”

“You’re a _fool_ ,” Severus hissed.

“Why?” 

“I’ve killed for you,” Severus began, and pressed him harder into the wall, ignoring the little sound of protest he made. “I’ve put myself in mortal danger for you. I grovel and prostrate before the Dark Lord for _you._ I risk everything every time I _touch you._ And you think I’d send you away? After everything I’ve done? _Think_.” He could feel himself losing his temper. After all of this, didn’t he know? Didn’t he know _anything?_

“Severus - ” Harry began, and Snape pulled him off the wall just to shove him back again, wanting it to hurt, wanting to knock the breath out of him.

“ _What?_ ” he demanded.

“Do you love me?”

The question hung in the air for a single second, and Harry turned his face away like he thought he might be hit for it.

“Do I - _love you_?” Severus grabbed his jaw, turning his head back. “You dare ask me that?” He yanked Harry off of the wall and pressed him face first into the bed, pinning him down and then dragging his palms over his bruises. “You ask me for these terrible things.” He lingered over the spot where two strikes had crossed - a crooked purple _X_ just over his ribs, raised and hot. “You push me so far. And you ask if you have my _love_?” 

“Please,” Harry whispered, pulling his arms in tight against his body as if he wanted to cover himself but didn’t quite dare. “Tell me. You _have to_.” The imprints of the ropes on his wrists were starting to darken, and Severus covered them with his hands.

“You have my _life_ ,” he breathed, digging his nails in. Harry whimpered and tensed up. “I’d follow you into the mouth of hell. And I have done.”

“ _Severus_ ,” he choked out. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” Snape stood back, loosening his collar.

“Please - ”

“What do you need from me now?” he asked coldly. “What can I do for you, Potter? You who ask so little of me. Want me to hurt you again? Want me to choke you unconscious, perhaps? Do tell me.” He saw a shiver run through Harry’s body - saw goosebumps appear on his legs and arms.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. And then he qualified it. “Until I can’t walk.”

The edges of Severus’ vision dimmed. _Fuck me until I can’t walk_.

“Until you can’t _walk_ ,” he growled. “What are you trying to get from me?”

“You know,” Harry answered, and Severus did know. Harry had said as much: _I want to feel who I belong to. I want to feel it every time I move_. 

He needed Severus to prove to him that he was wanted. To carve it into his body. Cut it right into his bones. _I want you. I won’t send you away. Here, have my brutality. Take everything I give you. I want you. I need you. Take it. Take it all._

Severus looked down at him. The tendrils of welts over his hips and down his thighs looked like red tattoos. He would be in pain in the morning, and for days after. Severus would have to send a healing draught with him, in case he changed his mind.

“Come _on,_ ” Harry groaned, and Severus realized he’d just been staring.

“Patience,” he said, and pointed his wand at him, moving to use his fingers to stretch him open. But Harry said no.

“No. No fingers. I’m ready. Just do it.” 

“Harry.” His desperation was scorching, and Severus almost told him no. Almost stopped right then. Almost healed him, debriefed him, and sent him to bed. Almost. Maybe he should have. 

Harry nodded furiously against the sheets at the sound of his belt buckle jingling in the air. Severus didn’t bother undressing, though, but stayed in his shirtsleeves and slacks and boots, and held Potter still with both hands as he lined himself up. There was resistance, but he pushed through it, and Harry pressed his lips together hard against the discomfort, but did not tell him to stop. A thin, keening whimper came out of him, and Severus made to slow down, but he shook his head again, angrily.

“ _No, don’t stop - please -_ ” He wanted everything, and he wanted it now, right now, fast, and hard. More fear, more pain, more passion. More. Always more. Like the need inside of him was bottomless.

He pushed a little further, and then, all the way inside, Severus went still. If this was what he wanted, fine. Severus knew a lot about pain. He could write his love in Harry’s tears if that’s what he really wanted.

“Ask me again,” he said, and pinned his head to the bed. “Go on. Ask me.” Harry cried out as Severus shifted inside him.

“Oh, _god_. Tell me.” He was absolutely breathless. Severus withdrew and thrust back in, hard, digging his feet into the floor for more leverage. 

“That is not a question, Potter,” he growled, doing it again, fucking into him, knowing that his clothes surely cut terribly into the welts every time their bodies came together. “ _That_ is an order _._ And you do not order _me._ ”

“Severus, fuck,” Harry moaned, and bit down on his own knuckles as Severus pounded into him, each stroke punishingly deep, and so hard that Severus felt the bed scrape back under the force of it. “Fuck me, oh _, harder. Harder_.” 

_Harder? Merlin._

He pressed Harry’s head down and dug the fingers of his other hand into his hip, laying down five more highly incriminating bruises. He imagined how he would look in the morning. So black and blue. How he would move, tomorrow, after this. After Severus did this to him. 

“Ask me again. Ask me if I love you,” he demanded, and bit down on one of the marks on his back. Harry cried out against his fist.

“ _Oh, god - I can’t - ”_

“But you’re so fearless,” he snarled, and tugged Harry’s head up off of the bed, arching his back and forcing him to raise up onto his hands or risk hanging from his hair. “Asking me to _hurt you_ , wanting my _cruelty._ Wanting my marks on you. Pushing and pushing and _pushing me._ Surely you can’t be so afraid of my _affection_.” He sealed his mouth over the soft skin under his jaw, biting, sucking, fucking him still harder. The legs of the bedframe scraped again and Severus jerked forward to follow them, knocking a sound out of Harry’s mouth that was so shatteringly erotic that Severus was almost undone right then. 

“Do you love me?” Harry choked out. “If you love me, tell me, _please_ \- ” Severus let go of his hip and reached underneath him to find his cock. 

“I fear you,” Severus breathed against his neck, and then pressed his head back down to the mattress and held it there. “The things you get me to _do_.” Harry moaned pitifully into the sheets and Severus angled his strokes, making him gasp and spread his legs wider, rising up onto the balls of his feet and digging his fingers into the bed. 

“ _Severus -_ ” his voice was weak. Snape did not let up, thrusting into him, bracing his feet, using as much force as he could gather. 

“Scream for me,” he demanded, snapping his hips forward and tightening his fingers. “I want you to scream.” Harry did not scream, exactly. It was like he couldn’t. Like he was beyond screaming, beyond begging, barely able to get enough air to form any coherent sound at all. As Severus felt him start to peak, his body contracting, spasming and shaking under him, he moved still faster, chasing after him, wanting to fall with him into the dark. Wanting to follow him into oblivion, if he could.

He tried not to say it. At least, not like this, but it was dragged out of him. Tortured, strangled, with a low and desperate moan, right at the end. Involuntary, raw, and absolutely true.

 _“I love you. Harry - I love you. I’d die for you_. _”_

***

Harry did not want to be touched, after, and when Severus tried, he flinched away to the edge of the bed and curled up into a tight ball. He was shaking, as Severus knew he would be, so he got up for an extra blanket, and draped it over him. Then, he retrieved his glasses from the floor, folding them neatly on the bedside table, and put a glass of water next to them. He put out the light, and laid back down. He could hear Harry breathing in the darkness, his inhales short and quick and his exhales long and deliberately slow, and wondered what was going on inside of him. If what Severus had done to him was too much, or if it had not been enough. If it was pain making him breathe like that, or something else. If, perhaps, he was wishing himself smaller, smaller, until he was gone. Disappeared, into the night. 

Harry did not want to be touched, so Severus did not touch him. No matter how deep the desire to comfort him was, he withheld it. Harry did not want to be touched. And it was what Harry wanted that mattered. 

So Severus didn’t touch him. And he didn’t sleep for a long time, either. 


	7. The Burrow

Severus awoke sometime in the darkness of pre-dawn. He turned over, meaning to go back to sleep, but saw that light was coming in through the crack under his door. He looked over his shoulder, saw that Harry was gone, and leapt out of bed. Had he left the dungeons? Severus did not like the idea of Potter alone just now, and certainly not of him alone out in the open.

Harry hadn’t left the dungeons. He was, in fact, sitting on the living room floor before a low and flickering fire, wrapped in a blanket. He was producing a single red spark at a time, hovering it over his index finger, and then letting it fall to the rug, absolutely silent.

“Are you trying to call me?” Severus asked. He tried to speak gently, to keep from startling him, but Harry still jumped and clutched the blanket around his shoulders. “Or am I interrupting?”

“Sorry,” he said, and turned his face away. “I couldn’t sleep.” Severus thought maybe he was wiping his eyes, but couldn’t quite see.

“No need to apologise,” Severus said, moving further into the room. “May I join you?” Harry hesitated, but then nodded. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak, as Severus sat in his usual spot on the sofa and crossed his legs. He looked at the back of Harry’s head for a few moments in silence, and then decided to try to draw him out. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked. Harry shrugged indifferently. “Or was it something else?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Harry said after a moment. “I just…”

“Woke up?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you in pain?”

Harry still did not look at him, but let the blanket drop a bit from his shoulders. “It’s not so bad,” he said. 

It was bad. He looked like he’d been in a prison camp. The marks were absolutely black. All of them. “Potter - ” Severus began, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but at the last moment he changed tack. “Will you sit with me?” Harry looked at the floor, and then back at the fire, and then over at him. His expression was quite opaque.

“Yeah, ok,” he said. 

His movements were careful as he got to his feet and perched on the very edge of the cushions. Severus automatically reached out to touch him, but stopped himself again, remembering how Harry had recoiled from his hands in bed. He might still withdraw from any comfort, now.

“May I?” he asked, and waited. When Harry nodded, Severus very cautiously touched his shoulder, between two of the bruises. “I didn’t mean to do this to you,” he said. Harry shrugged him off and pulled the blanket back up to his neck.

“I meant you to,” he said. “I wanted you to do it. Don’t apologize.”

“I can heal them. If you’ll let me,” Severus murmured, not quite touching him, not sure where it would be safe to touch him with the blanket covering his skin.

“No,” Harry said, shrinking away. “Don’t.”

“And your hands?” Harry hid them in the folds of the blanket. “Potter. Let me see, at least.” 

These were almost worse, his wrist rubbed raw by his struggling and bruised across the soft inside of his arm and over the bone. Severus’ skin tingled in sympathy to see it.

“Harry,” he began, but Harry pulled his arm back into his blanket and out of sight.

“Don’t,” he said again. “Don’t say you’re sorry.” Severus held out his hands.

“I won’t,” he said. “I promise. Let me see. The other one.” Harry allowed him to coax his hands back out, and he brushed his thumbs gently across the very edge of the abrasions. He’d scraped skin off in several places, but at least there was no blood. He raised one of Harry’s hands to his lips and kissed it. “If you won’t let me heal these you’ll have to be very careful.”

“I know.” 

Severus let go and opened his arms, and Harry obeyed his unspoken request, scooting further back onto the couch and leaning against his chest. It took a moment for him to relax back, and when he finally did, Severus wrapped an arm around him.

“Will you be?” he asked.

“Yes.” Harry leaned his head back against Severus’ shoulder, and Severus slid his fingers into his hair. “There’s one more, though.” He tipped his head to the side, and Severus looked down at his neck and flushed. Severus had been trying very hard not to give him any marks above the line of his collar this whole time, and had done pretty well at it until now. This one was much too high, and very dark, and very obviously exactly what it was. A suck mark, so purple it was almost black. 

“That,” Severus began, and swallowed, “nothing but a cassock would cover.”

“Mm,” Harry murmured. “If anyone saw me right now you’d probably be stoned to death.”

“I think that might actually be true,” Severus answered, remembering Lupin’s face when he’d seen Harry in his bed at headquarters, fully dressed and without a single mark on him. What would have happened if Harry had looked like this? “Surely you’ll allow me to heal this one.”

Harry tipped his head a little further and closed his eyes, and Severus summoned his wand.

“ _Senatio._ ” The mark dissolved. 

“Feels weird when you do that.” Harry settled back into his place. Severus ran his fingers over the healed skin, warm and smooth. “Mmm,” Harry hummed, turning a little into the touch. “Did you mean what you said?” His eyes were closed and his head was resting back against Severus’ chest.

“Last night?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Severus didn’t answer at once. He had meant it, but he wished he hadn't said it. At least … not right then. What could he say? _I love you, but I will lose you? I love you, but I will bury you?_ Maybe, _my love for you is the strongest and most painful thing I have ever felt. I love you, and I wish I had never met you._ All of those things were true. And he couldn’t say any of them.

“I meant it,” he began, but broke off.

“But you hate it.” 

“No.” _Yes._

“You do. You hate that you love me.” Severus’ fingers stilled on his skin. “I know you do. I can feel it.” Harry yawned, and turned his face a little towards him. He sounded so tired, but how could he be? To say something so cutting. 

“I - ” Severus stopped, and turned the words over in his mind. His first impulse had been to say _I hate what I’ve done to you,_ but that wasn’t quite true. _I hate what has been done to the two of us,_ maybe _. I hate that I’m what you want._ “I am not good for you,” he said at last. 

“Being the Chosen One isn’t good for me.” Severus turned his face into his hair, smelling the scent of his skin, and his shampoo, and the woodsmoke, and doing his best to squeeze back the stab of grief that pierced him. “I don’t think being Harry Potter in general is very good for me.” 

“You have certainly had an interesting time of it,” Severus answered him, and resumed his ministrations. Gently running his fingers over his neck, and the edge of his jaw. His skin was so soft. He was so _young_. “If you had lived in an earlier age you might have been a martyr. A saint.” 

“I am not a saint.” 

“You have the marks of one just now.”

“Why don’t you want me to stay?” 

“I do. But the Weasley’s love you. They want to see you. And - you’ve been spending too much time in the dark, with me. If I could - ” He paused, imagining. “I wish there was somewhere else to take you.”

“Mm,” Harry murmured. He sounded just on the edge of sleep. That was good. “Where would you take me? To our cottage?” 

“Our cottage in the country,” Severus said slowly. _Where we could be together, out in the daylight. If you would still have me._

“Tell me.”

Severus sighed and tightened his arms. “Out where no one can find us. Where no one would know us.” 

He spoke to Harry about the little stone house he’d imagined, with French doors, and a low garden wall. Raised beds, and a cherry tree, and a stone walkway. A wide open sky, and the sun, and the damp grass. Peace, and silence, and time. More time than they would know how to fill. All the time in the world.

Harry fell asleep like that, in his arms, and while he was sleeping Severus healed the marks on his wrists. He’d probably be angry when he woke up, but it had to be done. He couldn’t send him to the Burrow looking like he’d been tortured. And certainly those ones would hurt him more than he wanted. Surely he didn’t want to keep them. Not really. He was just upset.

At around six in the morning, Severus very carefully eased himself out from underneath the boy and sent a message to the Headmaster. Harry and the youngest Weasleys were scheduled to apparate from the Headmaster’s office that morning at ten, and it wouldn’t do to have a search party sent out for him. Not when he was like this. Then Severus took a shower, and sent for food from the kitchens. 

It was the food arriving that woke Harry up again. Groggy, he propped himself up on the couch, and groaned.

“Oh _shit_ ,” he said.

“Good morning,” Severus answered him. “Tea?” Harry sat up gingerly and pulled the blanket around himself. His hair was standing up in a way that put Severus very in mind of a cockatiel. “Or perhaps you’d like to shower and get dressed first.”

“What time is it?”

“Around half-past seven.”

“I think I’ll … shower.”

When Harry came out, clean and dressed in his muggle clothes, he sat down at the table, held up his wrists, and raised his eyebrows as if to say, _‘well?_ ’

Severus stirred his tea, avoiding his gaze. 

“I had to,” he said. “Molly would have called the Aurors if she’d seen those.”

“Did you do anything else while I was asleep?” His voice was accusing, as if Severus had stolen something from him instead of healing a wound.

“No, I did not,” Severus answered. “I left everything else alone.” He had left everything else, even though some of the bruises would be visible in a short sleeve shirt, as they were right now: down the backs of his upper arms, and peeking out of the collar of his over-large tee. “You’ll have to stay covered. How do you feel?”

Harry sipped his tea. “I feel like I was hit by a train,” he said.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Almost.”

“ _Almost_ ,” Severus repeated back to him, putting down his cup. “Harry. You’re the most dangerous submissive I’ve ever seen. No self-preservation instinct. If I listened to you I’d put you in the hospital.” _Over and over and over._

“Is that what I am?” Harry asked. “Your submissive?”

“Sometimes.”

“And when I’m not?” He leaned back in his chair and looked at Severus with a little sparkle in his eye. Almost like he hadn’t been flayed alive ten hours earlier. 

“When you’re not my submissive you seem to be my master,” Severus said. “And a demanding one, at that.” Harry smiled at him. “Eat.”

When breakfast was done and cleared, Severus helped him to dress in a long-sleeved jumper and inspected him for exposed marks. They argued about a few that were particularly risky, but in the end he kept them all. Severus didn’t push him too hard, either, especially after healing his hands against his wishes. Then, before he knew it, it was time to go. 

Severus held out the floo powder, but Harry didn’t even look at it. 

“Will you kiss me before I leave?” he asked, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Severus’ face.

“Yes,” Severus answered, putting the tin back on the lintel. “If that is what you’d like.”

“That is what I’d like,” Harry repeated, but retreated as Severus approached him until he was against the wall. Severus felt a little squeeze of desire to see him doing that, and pursued him until he could press his shoulders back against the stones. Then, when they were only centimeters apart, Harry held him back with a hand on his chest. “Tell me again,” he whispered, his body heat filling up the space between them. Severus’ insides squeezed tighter, this time with a sick, dizzy sort of longing that left him breathless.

“I love you,” he said. And then he said it again. “I love you.” And kissed him.

***

Once Harry had gone, Severus immediately set about shoring up and refining his Occlumency. It would take ages, and it would be best to start now, before he had time to miss the boy. The more distracted he was, the longer it would take, and the poorer the outcome would be. He cleaned up his rooms a bit first, to calm his mind, and when he made his bed, noticed that the frame had scraped shallow furrows into the wood floor. He moved it back into place with his wand and tried not to spend too long thinking about the noise Harry had made when he’d done that. He had to focus. After he’d put in a few hours of work, he could daydream if he wanted to. And he could check in to see how the boy was doing. Hopefully he would have a good time with the Weasleys, and would be able to keep his bruises covered. Hopefully they would last as long as he wanted them to last. And hopefully, when he came back, Severus would have contained him. 

As it was just now, he felt like _Harry Potter_ was leaking out of his bloody ears. Like someone could just look at him and know that his mind was completely full of Potter’s voice. Talking. Asking questions. Laughing at him. Crying out, begging, and saying his name.

And he’d thought he’d been consumed with thoughts of Potter before. Before he’d ever laid a finger on him. How unforgivably naive.

***

Severus was right to send him to the Burrow. As soon as Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the Weasley’s living room, he seemed suddenly to remember how much he loved it there. The shabby furniture and threadbare rugs, the haphazard arrangement of rooms, and of course all of the family, felt a little bit like home. Mrs. Weasley embraced him at once, and Mr. Weasley shook his hand, and Harry realized right then that Severus was right to vanish the marks on his wrists, too. They would have been visible as his sleeve rode up. Dark, and raw, and excruciatingly obvious. Severus was usually right, he supposed, even if he didn’t always like it.

Fred and George were already there, and popped out as Ron and Ginny floo’d in behind him. Harry learned that Bill and Fleur would be arriving the next night, too, but no Charlie. No Percy, either, which apparently was not to be discussed.

Mrs Weasley told him that he and Ron would be staying together in Ron’s attic bedroom, and that their things were already up there, and sent them off to settle in. As Harry unpacked, he found that sixteen little glass bottles had been stowed carefully into his trunk. Fourteen doses of Dreamless Sleep, and two that he didn’t recognize. He looked over his shoulder at Ron, who was busy digging through his clothes, and touched his finger to his bracelet. 

_What did you send with me?_ he thought. There was no answer at once. No answer for a while, in fact. Not until later that day, when Harry was watching Fred and George playing exploding snap in front of the fire. He excused himself to the bathroom.

 _[Dreamless Sleep]_ appeared. 

_Yeah, I asked for that. What else? There are two extras._

_[Healing draughts. For pain]_ Harry scowled. 

_I won’t take those,_ he thought.

_[You don’t have to. How is the Burrow?]_

_Christmassy. How is the castle?_

_[Quiet]_

_Do you miss me yet?_

_[What an impertinent question. It’s been six hours]_ There was a short pause. _[My clothes all still smell like you]_ Harry laughed.

_So, yes?_

_[You’re a nuisance of the first degree]_

He went back out into the living room. Fred and George were gone, and Harry heard Mrs. Weasley calling for Ron from the kitchen, so he went to investigate.

“Ron! Come down and help with dinner!”

“What can I do, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked. The twins were there already, peeling potatoes so rapidly that they seemed about to start smoking.

“Oh, not you, Harry dear. You’re a guest,” she said. 

“And guests don’t work,” George added, dropping his final potato. “Next task!!”

“Go and fetch Ron if you’re done with the potatoes, George. Fred, can you _please_ stop that.” Fred was levitating the pile of peelings towards the ceiling, like a very bizarre brown and soggy raincloud. 

“I’d like to help,” Harry said. “Can’t I chop or something?” George moved past him in the doorway.

“He wants to work, mother! The Chosen One is not _royalty!”_ He clapped Harry hard on the back, and Harry yelped and recoiled violently against the door. “Whoa, sorry,” George said, jerking his hand away. “You alright, Harry?”

“Yeah - you just - startled me,” Harry gasped, willing his eyes not to water. _Fuck_ that hurt way worse than he was expecting it to.

“Jumpy,” George said. Mrs. Weasley glared at him.

“Go on, George,” she said shortly. “Here, Harry dear.” She set Harry to work chopping onions. It felt good to have something to do with his hands, and when Ron came down, he helped too. 

***

That night, after dinner, and after a nightcap by the fire, Harry lay in bed pretending to be asleep until Ron started snoring. Then, he pulled up his sleeve. Before he could even touch the surface, however, a message appeared, shimmering in the darkness.

_[Are you in bed?]_

Harry felt warmth pool in his chest that had nothing to do with the magic of the bracelet. _Yes,_ he thought. _Thinking of me?_

_[Always. Will you sleep?]_

_I think so._

_[How are your bruises?]_

_Hurting. George slapped me on the back and I almost hit the ceiling._ There was a long silence. Harry fiddled with the silver, imagining Severus in his rooms. Maybe he was by the fire. Probably he wasn’t in bed quite yet. But he didn’t answer. _You don’t like the idea of other people touching me, do you?_ he sent at last. 

_[I do not own you]_

Harry turned over to lay on his back. He could almost feel each individual lash mark against his cot. Aching, tingling, making him feel hot and itchy with the desire to have Snape’s hands on him. _I don’t like it either. When other people touch me._

 _[You bring out my worst impulses]_ Severus answered.

_I’m such a bad influence._

Severus did not respond, and after a while, Harry fell asleep.

***

The next two days passed in leisure, and play. Harry flew in the garden with Ron, Ginny, and the twins, and chatted with Bill about curses and treasure. They did chores for Mrs. Weasley, and ate huge meals at her table. After that first night, though, Harry found that he did need the Dreamless Sleep, as he lay awake long past midnight listening to the sounds of the Burrow settling, and the ghoul rattling, and Ron snoring. He told Snape this, and Snape told him that was what the doses were for, and not to trouble himself. 

_If I was there with you I wouldn’t need the drugs,_ he thought, half joking and half serious.

_[They aren’t drugs, Potter. It’s magic for Merlin’s sake]_

_You know what I was thinking about just now?_

_[Dare I ask?]_

_Dueling club, do you remember?_

_[Dueling club? Vaguely]_

Harry grinned at the dark ceiling. This was probably going to annoy him, but it was actually what he’d been thinking about. Now that he knew Severus better - a _lot_ better - he’d been re-evaluating some of the things he’d thought about the man in the past. Like seeing him put Gilderoy Lockhart on the floor. Harry had only been twelve at the time, but it had certainly made an impression on him.

_Remember when you duelled Lockhart?_

_[Yes, though I wouldn’t call that a duel, exactly]_

_What a turn on._

_[Excuse me]_

_I’m serious. When you knocked him flat like that, I thought the Slytherins would faint._

_[There is not a chance in hell that you thought that at the time, Potter]_

_Well, I’m thinking about it right now._

_[Don’t get yourself too excited. It’s one in the morning]_

_You wouldn’t be telling me not to get excited if I was in your bed._

_[Well I can’t have you just now. Take your Dreamless Sleep and I’ll talk to you in the morning. That’s an order]_

_Oh, an order. I like those._

_[Goodnight, Potter]_

_Goodnight, Sir._

***

The next night, Harry looked down at his bracelet at around ten to see that Severus was being called before the Dark Lord, and would be unable to answer for some time. 

_[Maybe not until the morning]_ he read _. [Don’t panic if you don’t hear from me before then]_ Harry felt rather like he would panic, but he didn’t say that. 

_Yes, Sir,_ he thought back. And then, _be careful_.

 _[I always am]_ appeared, and that was all. So, when the house retired to sleep, Harry lay awake, unwilling to take a potion in case Severus needed to reach him. He waited for hours, until finally his bracelet warmed again, in the darkness of pre-dawn.

_[I survive another day]_

Harry gasped, suddenly realizing that he’d been holding his breath, and then covered his mouth. He lay very still until he was sure he hadn’t woken Ron, and then he read the words again. He thought about asking what had happened. Maybe Severus would tell him, and maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was too tired to talk very much. Maybe he was injured. He could be.

 _Good,_ was all he sent, in the end.

 _[Potter]_ appeared in response. Harry waited. _[Harry. I wish]_ He waited again. Nothing came. Harry touched his finger back to his bracelet.

 _I wish, too,_ he thought. 

***

Severus drained the rest of the scotch in his glass, and scrubbed his hands hard over his face. He’d taken a long shower but still felt like he was covered in blood. It had been a bad night. Somehow, The Dark Lord always managed to throw a fit around Christmas. It was like the holiday itself enraged him. And Severus, as his most devoted servant, was usually called to assist his master in extracting his pound of flesh from whomever had offended him. This time, it had been Lucius Malfoy, newly sprung from Azkaban. Just _why_ the Dark Lord had broken him out of prison only to torture him, Severus could not guess. Well, broken him out of prison only to have _Severus_ torture him, that was. Maybe to pressure Draco into moving faster. Maybe just for the joy of it. The joy of directing Severus to break his fingers, one by one, to heal them, and then to break them again. To slash his face. To break his nose. To hold him under the cruciatus until he vomited and begged for mercy. To pin him to the ground with a foot on his neck and do it again. And again. 

_[I wish, too]_ appeared on his wrist, and Severus realized that he had never finished his thought. _I wish you were here,_ was what he’d been going to say. The idea of touching Harry with the very hands that had done such violence that night revolted him, but still he wanted to. To touch him. To love him. Even just to look at him. To look at something beautiful, for a while. He pressed the edge of his glass against his lips, and then touched his wand to the silver. 

“What do you wish for?” he asked into the silence of his rooms.

_[Just now?]_

“Yes.”

 _[To sleep in your bed, I suppose]_ Severus felt his face contort, and smoothed the expression away, though there was no one there to see him. _[To have Christmas with you, maybe]_

Christmas.

His young lover, wanting to spend Christmas with him. Wanting to curl up next to him, and sleep in his arms, after what he’d done. And maybe Harry wouldn’t care. Maybe he wouldn’t bat an eye to kiss the hands that had dragged Lucius by the hair. And hadn’t Severus done that to Harry, too? Dragged him by the hair? Hurt him? Made him beg? Was there nothing inside him but violence?

_[Severus]_

_[Did something happen?]_

Severus filled his glass from the bottle and drank again, and then touched his wand to his bracelet. “If I could take you away, would you go?” he asked. 

_[Where?]_

“Anywhere.”

_[After all this is done, I would]_

After. There was no after. There was nothing after this. His wrist warmed again. 

_[You could call me, you know. I could be there right now]_ He was right. And Severus wanted him badly. 

“I wouldn’t be able to send you back,” he said. 

_[So don’t]_

He clenched his fingers hard around his glass. He could do it. He could just call him, and consequence be damned. He could leave the Weasleys in a panic, scrambling to find him, thinking the worst. He could have Harry in his arms right now, erasing the sense memory of grit and blood under his hands. 

“I can’t. You know I can’t do that,” he said. 

_[You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met]_

What a fucking lie.

“That’s a lie.”

_[No. It isn’t]_

“Potter.”

_[What sorts of plants would you have in our garden?]_

Severus stared down at this and wanted to tear the bracelet off of his wrist. To hurl it into the fire. Wanted to cut off his hand to get it off of him. Anything to go back to how he had been: numb, and unaffected. Brought low by grief, but not like this. This was too much. This - _hope_. It felt like being disemboweled. 

“Flowers,” he said into his bracelet. “Useless things. Just for beauty.”

_[Not potions ingredients?]_

“No. Just fussy, exotic ornamentals. A garden of blossoms,” he paused. “Color, and fragrance. Lovely, and with no purpose.”

_[I’d like a vegetable patch]_

“We can have that, too, if you like.” This impossible hope, like the sting of a scorpion: fatal, but slow. “And in the winter, we can have a greenhouse. If you like growing things.”

_[I’ve never had a garden. I might kill everything]_

“You can learn.”

 _[You’ll teach me?]_ Severus did not know how to create life, either. Only how to maim, and torture, and murder. Could he learn to be different? Maybe. If he ever got the chance.

“We can learn together.” 

***

Harry managed to sleep a few hours, in the end, and the next morning, Christmas Eve, found Harry and Ron pulling carrots in the garden for Mrs. Weasley. It was cold, and snowing, and the garden gnomes were very feisty, but after a while, they had a suitable bouquet of roots and trudged back into the house. They shook off snow in the entry, and took off their boots, and hats, and gloves, and handed off the carrots to Ginny. And then, in the doorway to the living room, Harry stopped short. 

Remus Lupin was sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, chatting with Mr. Weasley, and looking thinner and more ragged than ever. Harry stared at him, frozen, and when his bracelet warmed, he realized his finger was on it. He’d said something to Severus, but he had no idea what. He pushed his sleeve back to see.

 _[What?]_ appeared. _[Harry, what?]_

“What is that?” Ron asked. Harry jerked his sleeve back down. “Harry? Mate?” He looked alarmed at the expression on Harry’s face.

“I gotta … bathroom,” Harry said, and bolted. Mr. Weasley and Remus looked around, and Ron raised his hands.

“Bathroom,” he said.

***

_Lupin is in the living room, what should I do?_

_[He’s what? What is he doing there?]_

_I don’t know. Christmas dinner I guess? Holy Hell, I can’t breathe._

_[Potter. It’s alright. You can control this. Take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nothing is going to happen]_ Harry leaned back against the wall and tried to obey. Breathe. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Like Severus told him. _[Are you lightheaded?]_

“Yes,” Harry gasped aloud. 

_[Crouch down. Do as I say]_ Harry dropped to the floor and put his head between his knees. He held his wrist in front of his face and watched as spots danced in front of his eyes. _[Breathe. Breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Is your head down?]_

 _Yes,_ Harry thought. His vision was starting to clear. _I’m ok. I think I’m ok._

_[Very good. Stay down there for a moment]_

Harry read this and then closed his eyes, breathing hard. Thinking: _Control it. Control it. You can control it_. He realized his back was against the door when someone knocked gently.

“Harry, dear?” It was Mrs. Weasley. “Are you alright?”

“I’m - fine - ” he began, scrambling back. He did not sound fine. He cleared his throat. “I just need a minute, Mrs. Weasley.” _In through the nose, out through the mouth. Severus said breathe._

“Remus went outside,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” Harry managed. “I just - can I have a minute, please?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered quietly, and Harry heard her footsteps moving away from the door. 

_[Where are you?]_

_Bathroom. Mrs. Weasley just came to tell me Lupin went outside. I think I made a scene. What should I do?_

_[Wait a while. Drink some water. Then, if you can, you should go out and say hello to him. Seem happy. That’s all there is to do]_ A pause. _[It was very foolish of them to spring him on you like this, but I promise you, he won’t do anything]_

_What if he asks me about you?_

_[I don’t think he will. But if he does, just tell him that I am impossibly difficult, but you are excelling in your studies despite that]_ Harry gave a strangled little laugh. _[And keep covered. Nothing will happen]_

 _Ok_ , Harry thought. 

_[Trust me]_

_I do._

_[And if you feel unsafe, call me, and I will come and make it much worse]_

_That would make it worse, wouldn’t it?_

_[Yes. He has no quarrel with you]_

_I want you anyway. I want you next to me._

_[I am as good as next to you now. I will appear at your call, if you need]_

Harry stayed on the floor for a few minutes longer, and then got to his feet, and splashed water onto his face from the sink. Then, remembering what Severus had told him, he cupped some in his hands and drank. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked ok. He could look happy. He could do this. 

Outside the door, Mrs. Weasley was waiting in the hallway. He smiled weakly at her. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry,” Molly replied, and opened her arms as if to embrace him. Harry shrank back without meaning to and she let them fall, looking sad. “I didn’t think.”

“It’s ok,” Harry said, and smiled again. He forced himself to step back towards her, and she hugged him tight. Harry wrapped his arms around her, too. She hadn’t meant to do this. She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t know anything, really. 

She squeezed him, and it hurt, but he didn’t pull back. It made him feel a little sharper, actually, to feel the bruises light up like that. 

“I was just surprised. You can tell Professor Lupin he can come back in.”


	8. Christmas

When Harry came into the living room, Lupin was back in one of the armchairs, with a slightly strained smile on his face. His hands were folded together in his lap. Harry got the vague impression that he was trying to seem non-threatening. 

“Hello, Harry.” His voice was warm, and he did not stand up. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry replied, and sat on the edge of the raised hearth. He felt cold, and certainly he didn’t want to sit in the chair next to Lupin, so - the hearth. He clasped his hands between his knees, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

“It didn’t occur to me that Molly wouldn’t have told you I was coming,” Lupin said slowly. “I’m sorry if I shocked you.”

“No, it’s ok,” Harry said. “I was just surprised.” _Seem normal. Funny, maybe._ “The last time I saw you I threw you into a wall.”

“A bookcase, actually,” Lupin said, and this time his smile looked a little more genuine. “That was some very striking magic. Albus told me that you have been working on developing it.”

“Yeah, I have been. I’ve been working on it all year.” _Friendly. Normal. Totally fine._ “Want to see?”

“Sure.”

Harry looked around for a moment, and then gestured to the table, and an empty mug flew into his hand. He set it down and filled it with water from his fingertip. Then, he conjured a single green stem. As he held it in his fingers, a daisy bloomed on the end of it, unfurling white petals around a golden yellow center, and he put it in the water. When he looked back up, Lupin’s mouth was open.

“That…” he began. “Is astounding.”

“Snape is a really good teacher.” It just popped out of his mouth. And that was not what Severus had told him to say. _Fix it._ “Impossibly difficult, though.”

“Well,” Lupin said with a small chuckle. “I’m glad something good came of it. I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for a while, actually, but I’ve been underground, almost literally, working for the Order. I haven’t been able to correspond with anyone for months. But I’m sorry, in any case, for my behavior at Headquarters. It was … inappropriate.” He looked at the flower and then back at Harry. “Can you forgive me?”

Harry didn’t speak for a long moment. _Act happy._ “Sure,” he said slowly. “I mean, of course. That was a really weird day.” He smiled. “I’m sorry, too. For hurting you.”

“Of the three of us I think it was you who was most hurt.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry answered, uncomfortably aware of what he looked like under his clothes just then. He tried to think of something more to say. Something else. Not about Snape. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m Quidditch Captain. It takes up a lot of my time. My team is pretty good. Ron is my keeper and Ginny is one of my chasers.” 

“James would be so proud. He hated being captain, though. Said it was too much pressure.”

“It is a lot of pressure. Especially if you lose.” He smiled again, and Remus smiled, and Harry suddenly felt very tired. He wanted to leave, and he wanted Severus. “Well, I think I’ll go help Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen,” he said. “With… the carrots.”

As he left the living room, he looked back over his shoulder, and saw Lupin move over to the fireplace to pick up the daisy. He touched his cuff and thought, _everything is fine, I’ll tell you later._ And then: _This is exhausting._ Then, he went into the kitchen, and washed his hands, and Mrs. Weasley gave him something to chop.

***

_[What happened?]_

It was quarter-past midnight, and Ron was asleep. Harry, as usual, was lying awake in his cot, waiting for Severus to speak.

 _Nothing really,_ Harry thought, touching his bracelet. _He asked how I was doing._

_[And what did you say?]_

_I did some magic for him. I made a flower. He was pretty impressed._

_[As he should be]_

_And he apologized. He said what he did to you was inappropriate._

_[Did he?]_

_Well._ Harry thought about it. _I guess he said that his behavior was inappropriate. He didn’t actually apologize for breaking your nose._

_[And how was your Christmas Eve, other than Lupin’s unexpected appearance?]_

_It was fine. I ate a lot. You would have been proud._

_[Good]_

_And Mrs. Weasley was listening to some kind of terrible radio broadcast. It was pretty funny._

_[Oh?]_

_Yeah. Celestina Warbeck. Fleur didn’t like it at all. I don’t think very many people did._

_[Fleur Delacour? The Triwizard Champion?]_

_Oh, yeah. She and Bill are together._

_[She’s very pretty]_

_Yeah, if you like girls, I guess._ _She seems like a lot of work._

_[Very funny. How long is Lupin staying, do you know?]_

_I don’t know. A few days maybe. He seems really tired. Says he is working for the Order undercover._

_[That can be quite exhausting]_

_So I’ve heard._

Harry shifted onto his side, curling up with his left arm held in front of his face. Now that Severus had answered, he suddenly felt absolutely worn out. He told him so.

_[Good to know I maintain my soporific qualities even from afar]_

_I wish you could touch me, though. I feel kind of… weird, being here. Exposed. Like people are watching me._

_[They are. But they always have been]_

_Not you, though._

_[I have been watching you since you were eleven years old, Potter. I’m just subtle about it]_ Harry smiled and then yawned.

_What would you do, If you were here?_

_[At the Burrow?]_

_Yeah. Or just. If we were together._

_[You seem very tired. I think I would put you to sleep]_

_How?_

_[However you wanted]_

Harry pulled his arm in closer, wishing desperately that Severus was there with him. _Have you ever been so tired that you couldn’t sleep?_ he thought. 

_[Yes. Many times]_

_What did you do?_

_[Usually I just didn’t sleep. You have something to help you, though]_

_Yeah. But I don’t want that. I want you. Your hands. And. I don’t know, your breathing]_

_[I wish I could]_

_I’m alone._

_[No. I am there with you. I just can’t touch you. But I’m there]_

_Ok._

_[You’re almost through. You’ll be back at the castle before you know it. You’re doing so well]_

_Am I?_

_[Yes]_

_Should I take a Dreamless Sleep?_

_[Maybe half. It’s late. Wouldn’t want to spoil your Christmas]_

Harry took a whole one. 

***

Christmas morning, Severus awoke late. There was nothing to do, and with Harry gone, no one he wanted to see. He had breakfast in the great hall with the skeleton staff, and didn’t speak to anyone. Then, he went back to his rooms, to prepare Harry’s gift. He wasn’t sure, yet, if he would really give it to him or not. He wasn’t sure how it would be received. But it would be better to have it ready, just in case he decided to send it in a fit of sentiment. Once it was wrapped, he worked for a while on his lesson plans for the Spring. At around eleven, his wrist warmed. He looked down at it, expecting a “Merry Christmas,” or something to that effect, but that was not what he saw. 

_[The minister is here to see me. The way everyone reacted I’m very sure he is not supposed to be doing this. He has me outside. I won’t be able to read your reply]_

Severus read this through once and grabbed his cloak. The Minister of Magic had been trying to gain an audience with Potter since he’d come into office. Albus had not allowed it. And Severus would not allow it, either. He’d have to leave the grounds and then apparate. 

***

So, the Minister of Magic found out that Harry wasn’t under Dumbledore’s protection, and decided to use Percy to get at him. To corner him like this on Christmas morning. And why? To try to get him to agree to being used as a figurehead for the Ministry? And Stan Shunpike was still in prison, and Umbridge still had a job, and he thought that Harry would be happy to just pop in from time to time, as a vote of confidence? And he didn’t even care if Harry was the Chosen One or not. Gross.

“I shouldn’t have said that. It was tactless-”

“No, it was honest,” Harry spat. “You don’t care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you’re winning the war against Voldemort.” This fucking politician thought he was stupid. Stupid, and weak, and malleable. “I haven’t forgotten, Minister.” Harry held up his right fist, showing the scars Umbridge had forced on him. “I don’t remember you rushing to my defense when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. When your Senior Undersecretary was trying to torture me into silence. The ministry wasn’t so keen to be pals last year.” 

Harry glared out over the snow-covered garden, and suddenly the bizarre unreality of this meeting hit him like a brick. He was fighting with the Minister of Magic, in the Weasley’s garden. The leader of the Wizarding World had snuck up on him here, at his best friend’s house, on Christmas, to try to gain his allegiance. And he’d obviously been waiting to do this for a while. Watching him. Waiting for him to be vulnerable and alone. So he could be _used._

He needed Severus. 

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” Scrimgeour continued, his eyes cold and hard behind his spectacles. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” 

“Yeah I am,” Harry answered. “Glad we straightened that - ” CRACK. Harry broke off at the sound, and looked around. Snape had appeared outside the garden wall, and was striding directly over to insert himself between them. _Oh, thank god._

“Pardon me,” Scrimgeour began, alarmed, as Severus pushed Harry back a step, standing in front of him. 

“Minister,” he said curtly. 

“And just who are you?”

“I am Mister Potter’s Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor,” Severus said. “And his guardian.” Scrimgeour looked bewildered, and then annoyed. 

“What, his legal guardian?”

“No.” 

“Are you here on behalf of Albus?”

“I am.” Harry could hear in his voice that Severus was sneering. Angry. And obviously not at all intimidated by the Minister of Magic. A little shiver ran through him, and he touched the very tips of his fingers to the back of Severus’ cloak. But then the Weasleys began to pour out of the house, apparently alerted by the sound of Severus’ apparition, and he pulled his hand back and put it in his pocket. Lupin came out too, and Fleur. And then Percy, splattered in mashed parsnip. Harry looked back at them all and then peaked out from behind Snape’s arm to see the expression on the Minister’s face. He looked rather slapped. 

“What’s going on?” Remus called.

“The Minister was just leaving,” Severus answered, not looking away from Scrimgeour’s eyes. “Having realized the inappropriate nature of cornering Mister Potter on Christmas Day.”

Scrimgeour looked at Snape, and then at Harry behind him, and then at his assistant, who was red in the face.

“I didn’t mean - that is to say…” he trailed off, and seemed to reconsider. “We should be going. Percy?” They strode together out of the perimeter of the property and whirled away at once into the ether. 

“Bastard,” Harry hissed. Severus turned to look at him. 

“Are you alright?” 

Harry met his eyes, fighting down the urge to throw himself into Severus’ arms. It was strong. Stronger than he expected. “You came,” he whispered. 

“The Minister of Magic is not to be trifled with,” Severus answered, his voice dropping lower as he took in Harry’s expression. “They shouldn’t have let him take you out here.”

“You scared him.” 

Severus’ eyes flickered. “Did I?” 

“Severus,” Remus said from behind them, trudging through the snow. “What are you doing here?”

Harry turned to face him and stepped into his path. “I called him,” he said, holding up his hands. “I was supposed to. If anything happened.”

Remus scowled but then carefully neutralized the expression. “What did he say to you? The Minister, I mean.” 

“He wanted me to be his bloody mascot. As if I’d throw my lot in with the Ministry after everything they’ve done.” He turned back to Severus. “Can I talk to you?” he asked, and then looked to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “Privately.”

Mrs. Weasley led them upstairs and into a small back room and then left them. As the door swung shut, Severus spoke. 

“What happened?” 

Harry pointed his hand at the entrance, and _Muffliato_ crackled into life. Then, he grabbed the front of Severus’ cloak with both hands.

“That was - insane,” he said, and kissed him. Severus’ arms came up around him, and almost immediately Harry found his back up against the wall. And oh, Merlin did it feel good. Like Severus was holding him together. Containing him. 

“What are you thinking?” Severus breathed, pulling away.

“Wasn’t,” Harry answered, and dragged him back in. Severus kissed him again, aggressively, and then jerked back.

“Lord in heaven, Potter. Stop that.”

“Sorry,” Harry answered. Severus braced one hand on the wall beside his head, leaning over him like shelter.

“I came to protect you,” he said. “Not for this.” Harry turned to press his forehead against Severus’ arm.

“I need you,” he breathed. “I feel… not good. I need you. I need you to - wake me up.” 

“I can’t,” Severus answered. “I can’t do anything to you. Not _here_.” Harry pressed his lips to the pulse point in Severus’ wrist, and Severus turned his head back to center, kissing him again, and then speaking against his mouth. “I meant what I said. You’ve been doing so well. Not drawing attention to yourself. The longer you stay in here with me the more suspicious it will seem.”

“I don’t care.” 

“Harry. You _have to care_.” He sounded almost desperate. Harry dug his fingers into his cloak, pulling on him.

“Convince me,” he said. “Make me care.” And Severus’ mouth was over his again, hungry, almost violent, crushing him against the wall. And it was good. It was _so good._ It was almost what he needed.

“I _can’t_. Everyone is out there. If you ever want to be left alone with me again - ”

“C’mon,” Harry murmured. He felt… faded. Like he was blurring at the edges. “I don’t need a lot. Just - shock me. Ground me. I feel - ” He swallowed, and slid his hand behind Severus’ neck, under his hair, against his skin. “I feel weird. Like I’m not here. I need you to - I need - ” he stopped, trying to think. Severus had helped him before, hadn’t he? To get through the doors to the Great Hall. To go to the feast, when he thought he couldn’t do it. That was what he needed. He needed Severus to hurt him. To make him _focus_. “Hit me.” 

“What, in the face? _No._ ”

“Please,” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened them again, and looked up at him. “Just one. Please.”

Severus’ expression crumpled, and a noise came out of him like he was in pain. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t do that. I can’t send you out like that.”

“I can’t go out like _this_. Just - give me anything. Anything. Then I’ll go back out there and pretend that I’m fine. Just one. Please, fix it. Like at the feast. You can fix me. Please.” Severus clenched his eyes tight shut and when he opened them again, his gaze was hard. 

“Fine,” he said, voice low. “But not your _face_. What did you cast? _Muffliato?”_

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. Severus pointed his wand at the door and doubled it. Then, he grabbed him by the hair and made a fist, holding him still. Harry yelped, but Severus kissed him, cutting off the sound, and then reached under his coat, and up the back of his shirt, and raked his nails down the center of Harry’s back, right over the worst of the bruises. It was agony - intense, and sudden, and Harry saw stars, and Severus pinned him harder, their mouths still sealed together, as he gasped, and his knees went weak underneath him. It wasn’t quite kissing. It was like an _anchor -_ connected, sharing breath - as Harry panted and clutched at him.

When Severus finally pulled back, he held Harry still to the wall, and pressed their foreheads together. “No more,” he said, breathing hard. “No more. No more.”

“Oh,” Harry began, “I think - I think that was enough.” His head was clearing. The colors around him were more saturated. He looked into Severus’ eyes, and saw that all the hardness was gone. “Thank you,” he said, and embraced him. Severus squeezed him tight.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“It’s ok,” Harry answered. “I’m ok. I’m ready.”

***

Severus was hoping that Lupin wouldn’t be in the hallway outside, but he was. He was right there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Severus stopped short in the doorway, and Harry poked his head out to look. Then, seeing Lupin standing there, he pushed past Severus and into the hall.

“Don’t make that face,” he demanded. “That’s the face you were making at Headquarters.” Remus looked over Harry’s shoulder at Severus and glared. “Hey!” Harry continued, and Severus thought maybe he was going to shove him. “Look at me, not him. You said you were sorry. So are you really sorry, or what?”

“Harry,” Remus started. 

“What? What do you think?” 

“He cast _muffliato_ ,” Remus answered. “I could hear it.”

“No,” Harry corrected him. “I cast _muffliato_. Because there is confidential shit going on, Lupin. In case you hadn’t noticed.” Severus raised his eyebrows. Well. He certainly seemed better, now. Grounded. Even fiery. “So I don’t know what you _think_ is going on, but you are wrong. There’s a war on. Severus is my teacher, and my protector, and he’s a soldier, and so am I. So.” He shouldered past. “I think you should get over this protecting me thing, because it isn’t your job.”

Remus looked after him and then turned back to Snape.

“A soldier now, are you?” he spat.

“Aren’t _you?_ ” Severus sneered back at him, and pushed past him to follow Harry down the stairs.

***

Molly tried to get him to stay for tea, but Severus declined. The less time he was in Harry’s orbit around these people, the better. He could tell Harry wanted him to stay, but that was because Harry always wanted him to stay. Even, or maybe especially, when he couldn’t. But he let Harry walk him out to the edge of the garden, anyway, and that seemed to satisfy him. None of the Weasleys tried to follow them out, and Lupin hadn’t even come downstairs. Hopefully he was still up there in the hallway, rethinking his life choices.

At the garden wall, just where the wards dropped, Severus stopped, and turned back to look at Harry, and then over his head to the sparkling windows. The drifting snow might be enough to obscure them, or it might not. He hesitated, and then reached out and very gently touched his cheek with his knuckles. Harry’s eyes closed for a fraction of a second and he bit his lip.

“They can see us,” he said. Severus brushed a snowflake from his brow and then withdrew his hand.

“I know.” 

“Just take me with you,” he said. “Can’t you just take me?”

“You’re almost halfway done. You can make it. You’re strong.” He could just take him. He could just… take him away. Give him what he needed, now. His hands, his breathing, whatever it was. He didn’t have to leave him here, not really. He could just - take him.

“I guess,” Harry said. He looked desperately sad. Severus shifted forward just a little, and then stopped.

“You can,” he said. “And when you come back to school, you can come straight to dungeons. I won’t stop you. And - if anything else happens, I can come back.” Harry opened his hands and then closed them again, and clasped them together. He looked over his shoulder.

“It’s hard to remember I’m not supposed to touch you.” 

“I know it is,” Severus said. 

“What would happen if you kissed me goodbye?”

“I shudder to think.” Severus reached into his cloak. “I have something for you, though. A gift.” He withdrew a parcel, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine. Harry took it from him.

“For me?” he asked.

“For Christmas. It’s - well. I thought you might - Like it.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, and looked up at him. Severus felt like something was squeezing his heart. He needed to go, or he would do something stupid.

“You’re welcome,” he said. He hesitated a moment more, and reached out to touch two fingers under Harry’s chin. And then he withdrew, and turned on the spot. 

With another sharp crack, he was gone, and Harry was left standing in the snow, with his little package in his hands. He stood there for a while, until his hair and shoulders were dusted with snowflakes, and then he turned back to the house.

The short walk to the front door felt like a mile, and inside, absolutely everyone was waiting for him. Looking at him. Staring at him, really. But he didn’t feel panic, just then. He felt the hot streaks Severus’ nails had left down his back, and the light touch on his face, and the weight of the gift in his hands. He felt … almost calm, really.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” he said. “I need to rest. Sorry.”

“What is that?” Remus asked, pointing to his package.

“Christmas present,” Harry answered, and turned towards the stairs. No one called after him, and no one followed him. It was nice sometimes, he supposed, for people to be so afraid of upsetting him. It was like they thought he could tip over into a hysterical breakdown at any moment. Stupid.

***

The package was a book. Well, not a published book. It was hand-bound, and the cover was blank. He turned it over in his hands, and a little scrap of parchment slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Harry reached down to pick it up. It was a note, written in Snape’s fine, spidery script.

‘ _Dear Harry_ ,’ it said. ‘ _You once told me that you wished you had known your mother. Well, I knew her. And maybe this can help you know her, too._ ’ It was signed with his initials, and Harry, his heart pounding, turned back to the book, and opened the cover. 

***

“Someone should go upstairs and see if he’s ok,” Bill said. “Who will go?”

“I’ll go,” Lupin said.

“No,” Mrs. Weasley interjected. “Not you. You’ll upset him.”

“How about me?” Fred asked. “I don’t ever upset him. He thinks I’m funny.”

“He thinks I’m funny, too,” George said. 

“Well, we could both go.”

“No, come on,” Bill sighed. “What if he isn’t alright? What will you do, then? Give him a nosebleed?”

“Hey,” the twins said together.

“I’ll go,” Ginny said. “He likes me.”

“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley said. “He might not want you to see him if he’s upset.”

“Mum,” Ron said. “Let me.”

“Come on, Ron, you’re not exactly the best at _emotions_ ,” Ginny interjected.

“Yeah, well, I am his best _friend_ ,” Ron shot back. “And I know some stuff.”

“What stuff?” George asked.

“What do you know?” Lupin asked. 

“Nothing,” Ron sighed. “Just - let me go, ok? I’ve been with him the whole year and - it’s been kind of a hard one. Just let me go. And if I can’t handle it, I’ll send for _Ginevra._ ”

“Alright, Ron, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Maybe you can bring up a pot of tea, too. Just in case. He might be - I don’t know. He might need a pick me up.”

At the door to his attic bedroom, Ron could already hear him in there crying. He almost turned and ran back down the stairs. But Harry was his best friend. He could handle this. He just… wished Hermione was here. She’d know what to do. She was better at this sort of thing than Ron was. But Hermione wasn’t speaking to him these days, was she? She wasn’t here, and he was. And Harry needed him.

He squared his shoulders, and pushed open the door.

“Harry?” he called. “Are you ok?” Harry didn’t answer him, and he moved closer, putting the tea tray down on his bed. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” At the sound of his voice Harry shied away, and a book fell out of his fingers like they were numb. Ron stooped down to pick it up. It was bound with string, and not very thick. More like a notebook, or a scrapbook. “What is this?” Ron asked, and Harry turned towards the wall, covering his face with his hands. “What is…” Ron opened it to the first page, and read in a childish scrawl:

_“Dear Sev, I am so happy I met you this summer. I thought I was the only one - ”_

He flipped a few pages further - the writing a little more refined, and accompanied with a drawing of what looked like an owl with a letter in its beak:

_“Dear Sev, I hope your dad isn’t home too much this break. I know he - ”_

_“Dear Sev, I miss you already. Tuney is being - ”_

And further, a drawing of a tree, and a lake, and a few people in the grass, this one much clearer, and the handwriting still neater:

_“Dear Sev, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said - ”_

Ron flipped through the pages, his heart dropping into his stomach. What was this? What in Merlin’s name was this?

_“Dear Sev, do you think that Dumbledore even - ”_

_“Dear Sev, Slughorn has been pestering me nonstop - ”_

_“Dear Sev, where did you go for - ”_

_“Dear Sev - ”_

_“Dear Sev - ”_

_“Dear Sev - ”_

Pages and pages and pages of letters, some long, some short, some decorated and some plain. But every one, every single one signed, _“Love, Lily.”_

Ron looked at Harry’s shaking back, and then back at the book, stricken.

“Harry, did Snape give this to you? Is this - Lily - That’s your mum, isn’t it? Oh my God.” He closed the book and put it next to the tea tray, sat beside Harry on the cot, and pulled him into his arms. At his touch, Harry’s weeping fractured into sobbing, and he buried his face into Ron’s chest. “Harry, fuck, mate, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Harry could not speak. Maybe he would never speak again. His grief, so huge, like an arctic ocean inside him. And gratitude so strong that it was like being ripped to pieces. That his mother had written these letters. That Severus had kept them. That he’d been willing to give them to Harry, now, after all these years. That they had loved each other, as children, before everything went to hell. He felt that he might cry forever, until he dried up. Until he blew away in the wind like ashes. Like burnt paper. He clutched at Ron’s back, his tears uncontrollable, wanting someone else. Wanting Severus. Wanting his mother. Loving her so desperately. Loving them both. Like he would burst with it. Love, and grief, and regret. Like that was all there was in the world. 

Ron didn’t say anything for a long time, as Harry cried and cried and cried, until the well of grief inside him was depleted enough to be controlled. And then, finally, slowly, as his sobbing started to weaken, Ron tentatively touched his hair.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s ok. It’s ok.”

“I’m - sorry,” Harry gasped. “I - freaked out.”

“If you didn’t I’d be worried,” Ron said, with a weak chuckle. Harry lifted his head and wiped his face with his sleeves.

“I got - ” his breath seized. “Your shirt dirty.”

“It’s alright,” Ron answered, looking down at himself. “Nothing a little scouring charm can’t fix.”

Harry laughed wetly and pointed his finger at him, and the mess disappeared. 

“I still can’t get used to that wandless stuff,” Ron said. “You might want to do your face too though, mate. You look - well. You look like you just got handed that book.” Harry laughed again, and wiped his face a little more. “Did Snape give that to you?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s my Christmas present.”

“Harry,” Ron said. “That is fucked up.”

“No,” Harry sniffed. “He told me before, ages ago, that she was his friend. His best friend. And I told him that - ” he could feel his eyes starting to well up, and he took a deep breath. “That I wished - ” he was going to start crying again, he could feel it. “That I wished I _knew her._ ” He clutched his head, willing himself to stay calm. He wanted Severus. Severus had left him here. “And he gave this to me so - I - could.” He squeezed his eyes shut. _Stop crying. Stop it._ The heat behind his eyes ebbed. _Breathe._ He opened his eyes again, and there was a single teardrop on the floor. He was ok. Ron looked very scared when he looked back up, so he said it out loud. “I’m ok. It’s ok. I’m fine. I was just - shocked.”

“Harry.”

He was going to tell Mrs. Weasley. Harry could see it in his face. And that, he could not stand. Sympathy from her. Not now.

“Please don’t tell the others,” he said suddenly. “This is - private.” Ron looked at his hands.

“I won’t. I won’t tell anyone,” he said, and touched the edge of the little book. “Is this why you’re spending so much time with him? With Snape? Because of this?” Harry wiped his hands over his face.

“I - yeah,” he said. “Partly. He’s the only person I’ve ever met that really knew her. And he-” _Oh god, don’t start crying again._ “He’s been - helping me.”

“And that bracelet on your arm. That’s him, isn’t it?”

Harry flexed his left hand, abruptly wanting Ron to leave. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“Well, I suppose that does make some sense. I was thinking that you were - I mean…” he trailed off. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.” 

“I know it’s weird,” he said, and tried to muster a smile.

“No,” Ron answered. “I mean, yeah, it is. But this,” he gestured again at the book. “It does kind of make sense. You’d think he’d have been nicer to you from the start, though. If he’d loved her like that, I mean.” Harry didn’t answer. He wanted Ron to go. Now. “I’ll tell my mum that you’re sleeping, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Thanks. I think I will try to sleep, now.”

“You probably need it. What with Lupin popping out. And the Minister sneaking up on you and everything.”

“Yeah. Not a very good Christmas.” 

Ron stood up, and Harry stood up, too, a little shaky.

“I’ll go tell everyone you’re fine, then,” he said. Harry hugged him.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything. Sorry I’ve been so - different.”

“Nah,” Ron answered, hugging him back. “It’s ok. You’ve always been a nutter, Harry. We just love you anyway.”

As soon as Ron left, Harry pushed up his sleeve and touched his finger to his cuff.

 _Severus,_ he thought.

 _[Harry]_ appeared. _[I was worried]_

_I’m going to take a lot of Dreamless Sleep now. What is the most I can take?_

_[No more than two]_

_Ok._

_[I don’t like that you asked that. I’m going to call you]_

_No. I can’t go now. The Weasleys would panic._

_[I’m not caring so much about that just now]_

_No. I just need to sleep. I’m fine._

_[I should have warned you]_

_No warning would have been enough._

_[Harry]_

_[Harry?]_

Harry pulled out five bottles of dreamless sleep and uncorked them all, lining them up one by one. He wondered how many he’d even be able to get through before dropping off. He touched his finger to his wrist one more time.

 _Severus,_ he thought. _Tell me that you love me_.

_[I do. I love you. What are you doing?]_

  
The answer was four. Four bottles. The fifth got dropped on the floor, spilling out of his limp hand. 


	9. Shelter

When Harry woke up again it was dark outside the attic window and the bedroom was empty. He looked around, blinking hard, and then, feeling on the floor for his glasses, almost fell off the side of the cot. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, just barely able to reach them with the tips of his fingers. He put them on, and lay back down, dizzy. He stayed like that for a while, hoping his head would clear, but when it didn’t, he propped himself up anyway and slid his feet to the floor. Staggering to the door, he bumped into the frame and then held onto it as the room swung sickeningly around him. He found that he could sort of walk if he kept one hand on the wall, and like that, made his way slowly to the staircase, and then supported himself on the balustrade as he moved down to the nearest bathroom. Inside, he relieved himself, and then drank from the faucet, clutching the edge of the sink. 

He didn’t look in the mirror. He was sure he looked terrible. He _felt_ terrible - woozy, and sick, and weird and exhausted. Obviously he just needed more sleep. But then, as he picked his way slowly back to the bedroom, a fragment of distant voices caught his attention. Not loud, but-

He reversed direction, hanging onto the railing and listening hard. The stairs tilted ominously under his feet and the walls seemed to bend and bubble out, but he persevered all the way to the very foot of the stairs on the ground floor. And there, the voices were much clearer. His voice. Very clear.

“Just a while longer. He’s been stable for hours. If he doesn’t wake up soon I’ll - ”

“Severus?” Harry croaked. Maybe he was still asleep. Dreaming, somehow, despite the potions. Snape looked around and leapt to his feet so fast that his cup of tea pitched onto the floor. Molly, Arthur and Bill Weasely were sitting in the chairs around him, their faces white. 

“You’re awake,” Severus said. 

“I am?” Harry asked. Severus’ eyes traveled over him, and before Harry could take a single step closer, he was in Snape’s arms - surrounded by his familiar smell, and his warmth, and one of his hands was on his back, and the other was in his hair, and whatever Harry had thought before - this was home. This was it.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” Severus said into his hair. “That was unforgivable.”

Harry pressed his face into his chest and clutched at him. “It’s ok,” he managed. “I’m fine.”

“No.” Severus squeezed him in tighter, and a wave of relief and exhaustion rolled through him, so strong that he felt he might swoon.

“How are you here?” he mumbled.

“Molly called me back,” Severus answered, and then held Harry at arm’s length to look at him. “I asked her to check on you. How much did you take?”

“I think … maybe… too much.” Harry was having a hard time focusing his eyes. Severus blurred and doubled in front of him like a mirage.

“Five,” Severus said, his voice hardening. “Harry. _Five?_ ”

“No, I think… four. What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.” Severus’ eyes lingered on his face, and Harry wished he’d looked in the mirror before he’d come down. He had no idea what he looked like, but judging by Severus’ expression, he did not look well.

“That’s not that long,” Harry protested. “I went to sleep right after lunch. Eleven hours?”

“Harry,” Severus said again, and Harry did not like the way he was saying his name. “It’s the twenty-sixth.”

“Oh. I - oh.” Thirty-five hours. Harry looked over at the Weasleys still sitting by the fire, and then back up at Snape. “I scared everyone.”

“Yes,” Severus answered, folding him back in. “You scared everyone.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, and felt Snape take some of his weight. “I’m … tired.”

“I think you need to go to the hospital wing,” Severus said, and he turned his head. “I’m going to take him.”

“No,” Harry protested. “I’m fine. I don’t need the hospital wing.”

“You do. If your pupils hadn’t constricted properly when I got here I would have taken you already.”

“I can’t floo. I’ll - I’ll get sick.” 

“I’ll go first and then call you.”

“We aren’t supposed to do that,” Harry whispered into his clothes. “Not where other people can see.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Please don’t make me go to the hospital wing. Can’t I just sit down for awhile? I didn’t mean to do anything bad. I just wanted to sleep.” He stopped, pulled out of Severus’ embrace, and then swayed on his feet. “I - need to sit down.” Severus caught him.

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley squeaked, and covered her mouth with her hands. Severus half carried him over to the couch and laid him on it. Then, he kneeled beside it and touched two fingers to the pulse at Harry’s neck. “Is he - alright?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice cracked. “Severus?”

“Hush,” Severus said, looking at the clock on the wall. “I think… I think he’s alright. But maybe no more standing up just now.”

“What were you thinking?” Bill said. “Giving him that stuff?” Snape glared at him.

“He’s been taking it for months. Under my supervision. He hasn’t - he hasn’t ever done this before.”

“Sorry,” Harry said again. “I was just - too...” He didn’t know what to say. The room was spinning. “I needed a - break.”

“I shouldn’t have left you here,” Severus said again, and put his hand on Harry’s forehead. Maybe he was checking his temperature, too, but it felt good. Harry turned his face into Severus’ palm. 

“I can sleep it off,” he murmured. “Just need to lay down.” Then his eyes flew back open, and he sat up suddenly. Severus jerked back in surprise. “Where’s Lupin?”

“He’s gone,” Arthur said. “He left last night.”

“He’s gone,” Severus repeated, and pushed him back down. “He’s not here. Lay down.”

“Sorry,” Harry said again, and the word stretched like taffy in his mouth. He was slipping back under. He could feel it. Like treading water on the surface of a warm sea. He reached out to touch Severus’ arm. “Hey…” he said slowly. “I’m sorry.” 

“What in God’s name is going on with Harry and Remus?” _Who was that? Bill?_

“He tried to separate us.” _That was Severus. Severus’… voice…_

***

Harry’s hand fell from Severus’ arm, limp. He was out like a light. It was unbelievable that he’d made it down the stairs. He could have broken his neck. Severus should have put a ward on the door. Or an alarm or - or _something_. 

Stupid. He was making so many stupid mistakes.

He stood up and looked around at the Weasleys. “I think he can stay here. If I watch him. Is there - a room, or, somewhere private?”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other. “Maybe where Remus was staying. Upstairs,” Molly said. “There’s space for a chair in there, at least. Would that do?”

“Yes, that would do nicely,” Severus answered. 

“I’ll show you,” Bill said, looking down at Harry. “Should I carry him?”

“I can levitate him. I’ve done it before.” Severus directed his wand at Harry, who lifted limply off of the sofa. “Shall we?”

Up in the extra bedroom, Bill opened the door for Severus to float Harry through, and then drew down the blankets. They laid his unconscious body onto the mattress, and Severus covered him. Then, he conjured a chair, and looked expectantly at Bill.

“Thank you for your help,” he said. “I can take it from here.” Bill did not go. “Is there something else?”

“My parents seem to think this is normal,” he began slowly. “But it isn’t.” 

_Oh, lovely. A new inquisitor. Excellent._

“No. Very abnormal situation, indeed,” Severus answered. 

“What is going on between the two of you?”

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus sighed, and crossed his arms. “What are you asking me?” 

“Are you… involved with Harry?”

_Am I involved with Harry. Lord in heaven, Weasley. As if he didn’t just call me Severus and then collapse into my arms in front of you and your parents. Just go back downstairs and let me take care of him before I fucking curse you._

Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes. We are extremely involved,” he said. “Deeply, intimately involved. As you can see.” He gestured towards Harry’s quiescent body. Bill was not impressed.

“I’m being serious, Snape. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Explain it to me.” Severus gave him his best forbidding stare, but he did not back down. Who was Bill Weasley to be asking this? Who was he to even care? Everyone was so _protective_. He supposed Harry just brought out that tendency in people. “Have you been talking to Remus?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Well?”

“Is your relationship with Harry appropriate?” 

_Deep breaths, Severus. Calm. If you knock him out it will make things worse._

Severus glared at him. “No. It is not. I have obviously been providing him with unregulated sleeping potions, with which he has apparently attempted to poison himself. And that is not _appropriate_ by any stretch of the imagination. And don’t think for a moment that I’m not aware of that.”

Bill scowled right back. “I saw the way he clung to you. I’m not blind. That was not the way a student clings to a teacher. Or even a child to a parent.” He looked down at Harry, sleeping, and his expression softened. 

“No,” Severus said, looking at him, too. “It was the way a drowning man clings to a plank of wood.” Bill looked back up and Severus met his eyes.

“He’s not a man,” Bill said. 

“Tell that to the Dark Lord.”

“Are you trying to protect him?”

“Yes.” _Desperately_. _Now fucking leave before I lose my temper._

Bill searched his eyes, and Severus suddenly remembered what an excellent Wizard he had been in school. Sharp. Perceptive. He’d been head boy, hadn’t he? Severus snapped his mind shut like a trap door.

“Do you love him?” Bill asked. Severus held his gaze.

“Don’t you?”

They both looked back at Harry, then. Sleeping there, he looked like a piece of baroque art: his skin parchment white, stark against his black hair, with blue smudges around his eyes. His lips were pale, and his cheeks bloodless. As Severus looked at him, a little pocket of emotion welled up inside him and then burst, spilling warmth into his limbs. It didn’t feel good.

“I suppose we all do,” Bill said.

“Pity it won’t be enough,” Severus answered. “Go, now. Address your concerns to Albus if you need to. Let me tend to him.”

***

Harry woke up in a bed. Not the cot in Ron’s attic bedroom. A bed. And when he opened his eyes, he was looking at a blurry swathe of wallpaper. He blinked at it a few times, trying to orient himself, and then slowly turned over. There was a dark smudge on the other side of the bed, and Harry summoned his glasses, hoping it was Severus. And it was. It was Severus, asleep in a chair at his bedside. Harry reached one arm out of the covers to touch his leg, and he jerked awake at once.

“Hey,” Harry said. The word crackled as it came out, like balled-up newspaper. He needed water.

“Harry,” Severus answered. He had a pitcher and a full glass ready. “Are you thirsty?” Harry nodded, and took the glass he was offered. Once he’d drunk his fill, Severus took it back. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Embarrassed,” Harry began, sitting up a little against the headboard. His head swam, but this time it passed pretty quickly. And when it did, he realized something was very different. He reached one hand under his shirt, feeling his skin. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” Severus answered. “Just the night. I healed you. I had to. I thought I might need to send you to Poppy. And If I did, I couldn’t send you like that.” Harry rubbed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said. Severus gave him a half smile. Less than that, actually. A quarter smile. “Can I have a little more water?” Severus refilled his glass, and handed it over. He watched Harry drink it. 

“If you’d taken all five you would have been in St. Mungo’s,” he said. Harry swallowed and wiped his mouth, and then looked at the bedspread.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“I told you two.”

“Sorry.” He’d been apologizing a lot lately. “I was upset.”

“Self-destructive.”

“Big surprise.” He tried for a smile, but Severus just looked sad, and ran his hands through his hair. 

“I shouldn’t have given those letters to you while you were alone,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t think you’d - I didn’t think.”

“No,” Harry answered. “They’re wonderful. The best gift I’ve ever gotten.” And then he looked around, alarmed. “Wait, where are they? Where is it?”

“The book? I have it. Relax. I have it here.” Severus put one hand on his chest, and produced the letters with the other. “Don’t upset yourself.” Harry fell back against the pillows. 

“Sorry,” he said again. “I just - don’t want anyone else to see them.”

“Well, no one has. I took them when I came to check on you. When Molly called me. I don’t think anyone else touched them.” 

“Why did she call you?” Harry asked. Severus crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his thigh.

“After what you said, I sent my patronus. I asked her to check on you. You were unconscious, and there were the dose bottles. She told me what she found and I apparated back.” He paused, and took the empty glass back again. “Were you trying to hurt yourself?” he asked, not looking up. Harry closed his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” he started, examining his own feelings. “I just … I just wanted to sleep. For a long time.”

“Until term?” 

Harry turned his face up towards the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut a little harder.

“Forever,” he said.

There was a moment of silence, and then the bed dipped, and gentle hands touched him. One on his shoulder, and one on the back of his neck, drawing him forward into a half embrace. Harry turned his face into Severus’ shirt, as he had the night before, and inhaled. 

“I forbid it.” 

The words were low, rumbling through his chest as they were spoken, raising the hairs on the back of his arms. He sighed, and brought his hands up to touch Severus’ shoulders. Strong, and steady, and his. All he had, really.

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

***

When Harry got out of bed to take a shower, which he badly needed, Severus stood outside the door until he was done. Harry wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep the Weasleys away from him or was worried he’d collapse again, but either way nothing happened. Clean, he dressed in a stretched-out sweater and jeans, not having to worry about hiding his marks anymore, and then went down with Severus into the kitchen. It was around mid-morning, and Molly Weasley had prepared a truly astounding amount of food, especially considering that Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Fleur were all at work. Harry thought maybe she cooked when she was stressed out. And then he thought maybe she had warned everyone to leave him alone. Because they did not leave him alone.

“Morning,” Fred said brightly. “Pancakes?”

“Or SAUSAGES?” George piped up. Snape rolled his eyes, but Harry laughed.

“How about toast,” Ginny asked. Ron was holding the bread in his hands, looking nervous.

“Toast would be good,” Harry said, sitting at the table.

“Toast on deck,” Ron answered, hurling the slices over to his sister.

“And you, Severus?” George asked. “May I call you that? Severus?” Harry covered his mouth. Severus glared. “I’ll take that as a yes, my good man,” George said. “May I get you a cuppa?”

“He takes milk no sugar,” Harry said. Severus sat down next to him and folded his hands on the table. “You’re a Weasley now,” Harry whispered to him. “Must have been the rescue that broke the camel’s back.” The cup of tea slid over to rest in front of Severus’ hands.

“Well,” Severus said. “Harry takes milk and two sugars.”

“Don’t you think we know that?” Fred asked. A second cup levitated over. 

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“Does everyone on earth love you?” Severus muttered. Harry laughed, but then his expression darkened.

“TOAST!” George bellowed. 

“George! Lord in heaven,” Molly gasped, clutching her heart. “Are you trying to give us all heart attacks?”

“Sorry, mother,” he said, soaring over a plate of toast with a dish of butter and a jar of jam. And then a plate of pancakes, dripping with syrup. “Pancakes are what you get if you don’t specify,” he said. There were a few berries on the top, too, in the shape of a smiling face. Severus looked at the plate and raised his eyebrows. 

“I’ll eat if you do,” Harry said, and nudged him gently in the shoulder with his head. Severus looked down at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

They ate.

Harry almost made it through the four slices of toast he’d been given before being overcome with fresh exhaustion. Severus took him back upstairs and put him to bed, and then lay down next to him, on top of the blankets, with a book.

“Can’t you get under the covers?” Harry murmured, turning towards him.

“No,” Severus answered. “We are at the very outer limits of what is even barely plausible as a teacher-student relationship. Even an intimate one.” He kissed the top of Harry’s head. “I cannot get under the covers.”

“Be nice if you did, though.”

“Yes it would. Be patient.”

Harry turned his face into the pillow.

“Shoes off?”

“No.” Harry’s next words were absolutely incoherent, and Severus was filled with a swell of affection so strong that he wanted to vomit. “Sleep,” he said. “Sleep now.”

***

Harry woke up in the middle of the night, and his bed was empty. 

“Severus?” he called into the darkness. And then he remembered his bracelet. _Severus?_ No answer. He got up, found his glasses, and padded quietly out of the room. He felt a little bit better, this time. More like he’d just been asleep, instead of unconscious, and as he padded down the stairs, he was absolutely sure that Severus would not have left him again. And he was right. There were lights burning in the living room, and voices, too. He stopped a few steps above the landing, and listened.

“You cannot expect me to do nothing.” That was Lupin, surely. “He tried to _kill himself.”_

“He didn’t.” And that was Severus. “You weren’t even here.”

“No, _you_ weren’t here. Albus, he took four dreamless sleep. He tried to take _five_. Bill told me. That is a fucking suicide attempt.”

“Remus.” Yes, that was the Headmaster. “Lower your voice.”

“Severus gave him something. A package. And he - ”

“You are embarrassing yourself,” Severus interjected, his voice cold. 

“ - he had a breakdown. Severus gave him something. And I - I saw a - _mark._ A bruise. On his back. When he reached over to stoke the fire Christmas Eve. Like he’d been - ” He stopped, and his voice dropped. “I _know_ you’re doing something to him. I _know_ you are.”

“I think this conversation should include me,” Harry said, and stepped out of the dark. The three men fell silent and turned to look at him. 

“Harry,” Lupin said, standing up. “How are you?”

“Not so good just now. I thought I told you to stay out of it.” Harry walked right past him and sat in the chair next to Severus, wishing he could sit on the floor at his feet. Wanting his touch. The strength of his hands. “What are we discussing? Other than me.”

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Dumbledore said warmly, and Harry spared him a small smile.

“I’m feeling much better,” he said, and then directed his next question to Lupin with a cold stare. “So, you want to know what Snape gave me? Is that it?” 

“I - yes,” he answered, and sat back down. “You were so upset, I thought…” he trailed off. 

“I didn’t show anyone because it’s personal,” he began, and looked at Severus. “Do you still have it?”

“Yes,” Severus replied evenly. 

“Go on, then. I know you don’t want to, but I think you have to. To put a stop to this.” Severus looked back at him for a long moment, and then withdrew the book from his robes. He handed it to Albus, who looked once inside the cover and passed it to Remus. Harry watched him take it, hoping it would break his heart. Wanting to hurt him. To embarrass him for intruding, like Severus had said. Let him feel even a tiny fraction of the pain Harry had felt. Let it cut him to the quick _._

They waited in silence as Remus opened the little book and flipped through the pages. When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Harry did not allow him to speak. 

“Yeah,” he said icily. “Ask me again why I was upset.”

“Harry,” Remus began, and his voice wavered.

“Be quiet,” Harry said. “You want to tear me away from the one person I can really talk to, do you? You come here to accuse Severus of abusing me? Well, this is what he gave me. My dead mother’s beautiful letters. And I - ” his voice cracked and he bore down within himself to control it. “I was upset. Really upset. But it wasn’t Severus’ fault. He should have stayed with me. But how could he? With you so _suspicious._ And as for the bruises.” He stood up and jerked his shirt over his head, turning his back and holding out his arms. “ _What bruises?”_

The silence was ringing. 

“Are you satisfied?” Severus hissed. “Making him do this? Put your shirt on, Harry. You have nothing to prove.” Harry did, and sat back down. Remus was speechless. “Do you want to go back to the castle?” Severus asked him, and his eyes were so soft that Harry felt tired again. Desperately, desperately tired.

“Yeah, I really do,” he answered. He spared one more poisonous glace for Lupin and then looked at the Headmaster. “Can I?”

“But - ” Remus apparently had more to say. “I saw him touch your face, out in the snow. I _saw him_.”

Harry rounded on him. “God forbid someone _touch me,_ Lupin,” he spat. “God forbid I experience a little bit of kindness - a little bit of affection in my life. I’m a person, don’t you get that? I’m not just James’ son. I’m _me._ I’m a whole, separate person. And I’m allowed to have a _friend._ Even if it’s someone my dad hated.”

“Remus, if you please.” Dumbledore held out his hand for the book, and Lupin handed it over, looking numb. Harry took it from Dumbledore’s hands, and held it to his chest, and then looked back at Severus.

“Can we go now?” 

Severus looked at Albus and then stood, and Harry took his hand. Lupin was staring at them, his face blank and mask-like, as Dumbledore activated the floo, and threw in the powder. Harry looked at the flames and then back at his Headmaster. 

“Will you tell the Weasleys what happened?” he asked. “Why I had to leave. I don’t want to - hurt anyone.” 

“Of course,” Dumbledore answered. “Not to worry, Harry.” 

“Thank you.” Harry smiled at him, and stepped into the fire. And just as he whirled away, he saw Lupin standing up to address Dumbledore, and then spilled out onto the floor of the Headmaster’s office. Severus stepped out a moment later, brushing soot off his robes, and offered his hand to Harry on the floor.

“Shall we?” he said.

***

They walked in silence through the deserted halls of the school, all the way down into the deepest part of the dungeons. And if it was an odd sight, Professor Snape, in his forbidding robes, leading Harry Potter, in his pajamas and sock feet, there was no one to see them. So they went, down to Severus’ rooms - the only place that Harry ever felt safe anymore. And then Severus closed the door, and turned to look at him, and Harry looked back, very still. And then he opened his arms.

“Severus. Can you - please - ” and Severus seized him, and kissed him, and began walking him backwards towards the bedroom, shedding a trail of clothes as they went. 

“You,” he breathed, and pushed Harry down onto the bed, stripping off his pajama bottoms, “astound me.” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s chest, and then to his abdomen, and his hip. He meant to move lower, but Harry’s fingers caught at his hair and pulled him back up.

“Kiss me again,” he said, and Severus obeyed, pressing their mouths together. He held him still, too - one hand in his hair and the other on his jaw, and could feel it as Harry submitted to him, and went limp. And he could feel it, too, as he recovered some of his strength, and pressed up against him, his body hot. But then, his legs came up, hooking around Severus’ lower back, and Severus pulled away. Surely he couldn’t want much of anything, tonight. Not after what he’d been through.

“Aren’t you too tired?” 

Harry swallowed, tossed his glasses to the side, and threw his arm over his eyes. “I’m never too tired for you,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

Harry peeked at him from underneath his arm. “I’m sure,” he said. “I’m so sure.” Severus kissed his ribs and stood up.

“Well. If you’re sure.”

“Have me. Please. That’s all I want.” 

With his face covered like that, Severus suddenly had the thought that maybe the lights were hurting his eyes, and he put all of them out but one. Then, he undressed, and coaxed Harry up the rest of the way towards the pillows. Crawling over him, Severus took his arm away and looked into his eyes. Green, bright, and luminous. Deep with passion, and intelligence, and the spark of life. And after what he’d done - that spark was more precious than ever. Fleeting though it might be - it was _precious._

“You frightened me,” Severus said, and Harry’s hands came up to his face.

“Please don’t,” he said.

“Listen,” Severus insisted. “I thought - ”

“ _Don’t._ ” Harry kissed him, but Severus pushed him back down.

“Harry. Listen to me.” His voice came out hard, and he softened it, needing Harry to hear him as a man, not a master. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. “Am I making it worse?” 

“No,” Harry breathed, cupping his cheek. “No. Never. Not once.” He drew him down again, and this time Severus allowed himself to be silenced. _Never_ was a lie, of course. Severus had hurt him many times. And had made things worse. Had terrorized him. Rejected him. Bullied him. But that was the past. Lifetimes ago. 

Harry’s hands were on his face, and in his hair, and behind his neck, and Severus kissed him carefully, tenderly, as tender as he knew how to be, until Harry pushed up against him with a shallow whimper, and brought his knees up. It amazed him, each time, how well Harry fit against his body. Perfect, like it was where he was supposed to be, instead of something so deeply forbidden that they were _pursued_ for it.

“Please,” Harry said, “Severus, _please.”_

Severus summoned his wand. He touched it to his skin and spoke the words, and then he pressed his mouth to Harry’s neck, and reached down between his legs, sliding his fingers carefully over his slick skin and then into him. One finger, and then two, working him open. Harry gasped and pressed down again as Severus curled his fingers. 

“Now,” he said. “I want you _now._ ” Severus shushed him, thrusting his fingers in and out, and then scissoring them gently. And then he added a third finger, stretching him gradually. There would be no pain tonight. Not if he could prevent it. “Severus, come on, _please_.”

“Let me do it properly,” he murmured back. “Let me take care of you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry said, and he sounded suddenly angry. “I don’t want your - _pity._ ”

Severus stopped.

“My pity?” he asked, lifting his head. “Harry, I don’t pity you. I love you. And that isn’t - it’s not the same thing _._ ”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his face away. “Fine,” he said. “Take what you want.” Severus kissed his cheek, and then his temple.

“All I want is you,” he whispered. Harry’s lips trembled, and he dug his fingers into Severus’ shoulders.

“Ok,” he managed. “Whatever you want. Please, just, keep going.” Severus obeyed him, moving his fingers again, gentle, cautious, and then finally, when he was absolutely sure he was ready, withdrew, coaxed Harry onto his side, and nestled up behind him. Harry tried to turn onto his stomach, but Severus stopped him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Hush,” Severus answered, and bent Harry’s leg up a little further, and kissed his shoulder, holding him steady as he began to press inside. Incremental, inch by sweet inch, backing off just a little, and then pushing further. Harry’s breath huffed out and he reached back to try to grab him, to try to make him move faster, but Severus wrapped his arms around him and held him still. 

“Hey - don’t do that. I want it - harder.” 

“No,” Severus answered. “Let me. Let me take care of you.” A wave of tension coursed through him, and Severus inhaled, almost afraid. “Harry,” he said, “relax.” He kissed his shoulder blade, and behind his ear. “I have you.” He kept up his languid pace, pressing slowly into him until he was sheathed all the way to the base, withdrawing just slightly, and then doing it again. Pulsing into that gorgeous, velvet heat. Gentle. Sensual. 

Harry was trembling, hardly breathing. Why? What in God’s name was making him shake like that? 

“Why are you - ”

“Stop - ” Harry whispered. “Please - I can’t - it’s too much - ”

“What?” Severus breathed into his hair. “What is it?”

“I _can’t,_ ” he gasped out. “Please, _stop_.” Severus tightened his arms, and did not stop.

“Shall I tell you how much you mean to me?” he asked. Harry shook his head no, turning his face towards the pillows. “How beautiful you are? How _blinding - ”_

“No,” he moaned. _“Stop it.”_ He dug his nails into Severus’ forearms where they were wrapped around him, and dragged them down, and Severus pulled his hands off and interlaced their fingers.

“Shall I tell you how you _shine?_ Your _radiance - ”_

 _“Stop it, stop,”_ his voice was weak. _“Severus, please.”_ But Severus did not stop, and he did not speed up, but continued to rock into him. Gentle, but insistent.

“How beloved you are - how terrified I am to lose you - ”

“Oh god, stop, ” Harry gasped. “Stop - stop _talking.”_

Severus held him still tighter.

“I love you, I adore you,” he breathed. “You’re everything _._ My whole heart - my _soul - ”_ If he’d thought that the tension in Harry’s body had peaked, he was wrong. In his arms, Harry turned to stone.

“ _Sparks!”_ he yelped. “Stop it - stop - Sparks sparks _SPARKS!”_

Severus went still, but did not withdraw. Instead, he pressed his face into the back of Harry’s neck, and squeezed him. “You won’t accept anything from me but brutality, is that it?” he murmured. Harry’s breath was ragged, and he was still as a statue. Still as a prey animal, cornered. “All I have is love for you. Won’t you take it?”

Harry shook against him, once, his fingers spasming into fists. “I _can’t,_ ” he gasped “ _I can’t-_ ” 

It must be the kindness. The compassion. Crushing him. All he’d known in his entire life - abuse, and pity, and adulation. An orphan, unloved and unwanted, and then the Chosen One with the whole of the Wizarding World on his shoulders. Nothing human. Nothing that made him a _person._

Severus rubbed his thumbs gently over the backs of his hands, held tight in his own. “Everyone wants to tear you away from me. Do you want that, too? Do you want to go? If you want that, you can leave. You _can_ \- ”

 _“No,”_ Harry choked out. “I just - can’t _. I can’t do this.”_

“Even when I try not to hurt you, I still do.”

“No,” he said again. “No, I - ” his breath caught, frozen inside him, and then he inhaled like he’d been underwater. _“Severus - Please - ”_ He pulled on Severus’ hand, twisting it, turning his body, and Severus knew that he wanted to be covered. To be smothered, maybe. To be crushed by something physical, instead of something inside him that he could not escape. And so, he followed after, and lay on top of him, giving him all his weight. He could feel Harry struggling to breathe underneath him, but it seemed like that was what he needed, so he did not try to hold himself up. And when Harry finally spoke again, it came out like the words were made of barbed wire. “I - love you,” he gasped, “but - everyone - I love - _leaves_.” 

There was no justice. No charity. No honor in all the world. Because everyone _had_ left him. Stood in front of him, and were cut down, one by one. Severus went cold, thinking of what he would have to do before this was over. The terrible things he would have to do. 

Their hands were still interlaced, and Severus tugged on him, and laid him out flat, and then hooked his feet over Harry’s ankles, pinning his legs down. 

“I won’t leave,” he said, burying his face into his hair. “I won’t. You’ll never be alone again. Not even the end of the world could keep me from you. No grave, no pyre could hold me. Not now.” Harry’s body shuddered hard underneath him, and then suddenly, the tension dissolved. It was like he’d been tranquilized, and Severus hesitated, and then began to move again, but barely, using his body weight to hold him still. To make him feel protected, if he could. “I love you now, and I’ll love you forever.” Harry moaned into the pillows, and he said it again. “Forever, Harry. Always.”

_“Promise. Promise me.”_

His voice was muffled, and fragile, and it cracked at the edges. It was like he was begging - and maybe he was. But if he was, it was for something Severus couldn’t give him. Severus could not change who he was. And he could not stop the war. All he could do was try to keep him moving forward. Just a little longer. 

“I’ll never leave you,” Severus said again, keeping his movement fluid, trying to ignore the icy core in his heart. The stab of guilt that made him hate himself for doing this. For saying this to him when he knew it wasn’t true. “Never. I’ll never leave you. I promise.” Harry pushed back a little against him, and he held his hands tighter, and his legs down, and kissed his cheek, and his jaw, and the side of his neck. “I swear it.”

_I swear. I promise._

His whole life. 

Held together by lies. 

Just… lies.


	10. Fragile Potter

Harry fell asleep afterward, wrapped in Severus’ arms, and he slept without moving until late morning. Severus supposed his body was still purging the last of the Dreamless Sleep from his system. It might take a few days yet for him to feel completely normal. Well, normal as far as that was even possible, for Harry. 

Severus was quite sure that Harry still had several doses in his dormitory, too. He might even have as many as a dozen. They would have to be taken away before Harry returned there. He would have to be given one bottle at a time from now on, no matter what he said. Because, though Harry might insist that he hadn’t meant to hurt himself, he had hurt himself. And he would continue to hurt himself, and to beg Severus to hurt him, too. It was Severus’ responsibility to moderate the pain he inflicted, and, if possible, to prevent Harry from hurting himself at all. Because if Harry had his way, he’d be torn to pieces. As he’d said, all those months ago, he wanted to be torn apart, and he wanted Severus to do it. And, as he’d said later, it was Severus’ job to calm him down. 

He shivered a little to remember it: Harry, only just released from the Hospital Wing, screaming at him, so full of rage and fear that he almost lit the rooms on fire.

_YOU calm me!_

_That’s your job!_

_You PROMISED -_

He had promised, and he had failed, and now Harry was like this.

Asleep again.

And it was good that he was asleep. He needed to rest.

Severus resolved not to get out of bed until Harry woke up. He’d been waking up alone far too much lately, and there was no reason for that today. There was still almost an entire week before term started up again, and after all that had happened in the last few days, the idea of Harry waking up alone was loathsome. So, he stayed, summoning a book from the shelves and reading it with one hand while the other was trapped underneath Harry’s head, growing steadily more numb. And then, at around half-past ten, Harry finally began to stir. 

“Good morning,” Severus murmured, as he sighed and turned his face into his arm. “How are you feeling?” He turned his face further, burying it into Severus’ chest. “I see.” 

Severus slid his fingers into his hair, and turned back to his book, content to wait. And after a while, Harry spoke, muffled against Severus’ skin like he didn’t really want to be heard. Severus could hear him anyway, though.

“Please don’t ask me any questions,” he whispered.

“No questions,” Severus answered lightly. 

There were a lot of questions, and a lot that needed to be discussed. But maybe not today. Maybe he could have a break. A little respite from all the drama. “We can talk about something else. Or we could shower and send for food, if you like.” Harry’s hand came up and ran over his ribs. “Or we could stay in bed.”

“What day is it?” Harry asked, still not looking up. 

“It’s the 29th. Monday.”

“At least I’m sleeping a sort of normal amount, I guess.”

“You should be well quit of your overdose by this afternoon, I expect,” Severus answered. Harry glanced up at him and then away.

“I didn’t try to kill myself,” he said. Severus kissed the top of his head.

“I believe you.”

They took a shower. And in the shower, Severus took his time covering Harry with soap, and washing every part of him. Rubbing circles into his skin, and drawing his palms down and across the lean muscles of his back and shoulders. Harry submitted to this treatment without complaint, and leaned back against him, and balanced on one leg at a time as Severus washed his feet.

“Saint Harry,” he chuckled. Severus directed him under the water and rinsed him off, and then kissed him, and meant to send him out, but Harry did not want to go. “Can I do you?” he asked. “I want to.”

Severus let him. And he had never felt like this before. Not ever. It might have been the sight of Harry unconscious in that squalid little attic bedroom, one arm hanging off the bed, so white he was almost translucent. It might have been the terror Severus had felt to see him like that. Confronted with the reality of losing him, it was like his whole insides had been scooped out and replaced with someone new. Harry’s someone. Whoever that was. 

***

Clean and dressed, they went out into the living room to send for food. Harry went first, and then stopped so suddenly in the doorway that Severus walked right into him. 

“What - ”

“Oh Jesus,” Harry breathed. 

It was Dumbledore. Sitting on the sofa, looking quite calm. And looking like he had been there for a while. Severus pushed in front of Harry at once.

“Albus,” he said, holding the boy behind him with one hand. He could feel Harry’s fingers clutch at the back of his shirt, and then his forehead press into his spine. “He can’t take any more.”

“It’s alright, Severus,” Albus answered. “I am not here to sow chaos. Please sit.” Severus stayed still in the doorway for a moment, hesitating.

“Can he go?” he asked at last.

“No - ” Harry whispered into his back. “No. Severus. No.”

“Please. The two of you.”

Severus stepped forward, and Harry followed behind, and when he sat on the end of the sofa opposite Dumbledore, Harry sank to the floor at his feet, and Severus didn’t try to stop him. There was nothing for it. Not now. They’d come out of his bedroom together, damp from the shower. What did it matter if Harry sat at his feet or in a chair five feet away? It was over. 

Harry reached up for his hand, and he took it.

“Well,” Albus began, directing his words at Severus. “Remus has gone to the Board of Governors. I tried to dissuade him but he refused to be moved.” He looked at Harry, and then at their interlaced fingers. “He seems to think that your relationship has become … sexual. Despite my assurances to the contrary.” Harry jerked his hand away and clutched at his own arms. “They are requiring a statement from you both. There may be a hearing of some kind, if I cannot prevent it.”

_He knows. He knows everything._

“A hearing?” Harry squeaked. Albus inclined his head.

“As I say, if I cannot prevent it.”

“What are you saying, Albus?”

“I am saying that your skills as an Occlumens will be needed very shortly, Severus. If you are to stay at this school. As you must.”

_He knows and he doesn’t care. How is this possible?_

“Who will be interrogating me?” Severus asked quietly. “You?”

“Yes, among others.”

“And Harry?”

“I think we might be able to convince the Governors that he is much too fragile to be put through such an ordeal. My apologies, Harry.”

“I am too fragile,” Harry breathed. “I’ll fall apart.”

Severus thought that might be true, just now. He imagined someone peering into his mind. Into his memories. A stranger. Someone who didn’t know - 

“They can’t.”

“No,” Albus agreed.

Severus stood up. “How long do I have?”

“Five hours.”

“Hours,” Severus repeated. 

“What? What does that mean?” Harry asked. He hadn’t moved from the floor, but was looking up at him wide-eyed like Severus was dissolving right in front of him. 

Severus looked back at the Headmaster sitting there, looking so calm, and knew that all Albus Dumbledore cared about was the war. Was getting Harry to the end of the _war_. That was it. And Albus knew that if Harry was taken from him now, he would not make it to the death that was needed from him. And Severus had to stay at Hogwarts too, didn’t he? If he was sent away, who would be here to keep Draco’s soul intact? Who would be here, at Hogwarts, to shoulder the unbearable burden of murdering the Headmaster? What was something so small as an affair with a student, next to that? 

Nothing fucking mattered. Nothing. Only Harry. And only Harry as he was right now, at this moment. Because for him, there would be no after. All three of them were condemned, and there was no fixing it. 

He turned his back on the Headmaster, and knelt before the boy on the floor. 

His lover. 

He knelt before his lover on the floor.

“Harry,” he said. “Listen to me, now. I am not sending you away. But to do this, I cannot be able to see you. Do you understand?” Harry shook his head no, and Severus took his hands. “I need to hide what we’ve done. In my mind. I need to create some lies. Some false memories for these people. So they don’t - take me away. They have to be perfect. And for me to do that I have to be alone. If I can see you, I won’t be able to do it.” He paused, and glanced back over his shoulder at Albus watching them. 

_It doesn’t matter_. _He doesn’t matter._

He turned back to Harry and kissed his forehead. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, and I won’t leave you. I’ll kill anyone that tries to keep me from you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered. Severus pulled him into his arms and squeezed him tight for a single moment before looking into his eyes. 

“I have to go, now. And I have to give you this, to hold.” He tapped his wand to his wrist and the bracelet expanded to slip over his hand. He withdrew slightly to slide it onto Harry’s right arm, and shrank it to size. “And when I come back, I will never take it off again.”

“I’m scared,” Harry said. Severus smoothed his hair down across his temples.

“You don’t need to be scared. You just need to believe that I can lie to anyone.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Except for me,” he said.

“Except for you,” Severus agreed. Then he stood, and turned to face Albus. The old man looked impossibly sad, and for a moment, Severus wanted to kill him right there where he sat. How did he dare look so sad, when he was the cause of all of this? He’d thrown them together and look what had happened. “Will you stay with him? Until it’s time to go?” he asked. Albus nodded. Severus looked back one more time at Harry on the floor.

“Harry,” he said. “I can do this. I can.”

Harry smiled weakly, and Severus floo’d to his office, and locked and warded the door.

***

Suddenly, Harry felt very exposed sitting on the floor like that. With Severus gone, it was like he was _naked_. He stood up and sat on the couch instead, and folded his hands between his knees. “What do I have to do?” he asked, looking up at Dumbledore. “What do I need to say?”

Albus smiled gently at him. “I’ll need to take a statement from you, and present it to the Governors as a memory. If I do it like that, they might accept it.”

“Alright. How should I look?” 

Dumbledore’s eyes traveled over him. “Just as you do now,” he said.

“Must look awful, then, mustn’t I?” 

“Vulnerable,” Dumbledore corrected him. “They must think that it would hurt you too much to be called to speak in person.”

***

Severus drew up a chair so that it faced the wall, and sat in it. Five hours was not a lot of time, and he had to focus. Thank Merlin he hadn’t finished organizing his mind to suit the Dark Lord. If he had, he would have had to undo that first. He’d been only part way through when Harry’d told him about the Minister, and after that, there hadn’t been time for any more. 

He closed his eyes, controlled his breathing, and turned his awareness inward. First, he needed to purge out every single filthy thought he’d ever had about Harry. Every memory of his naked body. Every sound he’d ever made in passion or in pain. He had to bury them. Cover them with something else. Start from the beginning. The first time Severus had ever touched him in anger. Start there. Fold it. Take the associated memories. Harry up against the wall. Fear in his eyes. Fold them up together. Smaller. Smaller. Harry’s skin. His blush, down his chest. The scars on his arms. Green sheets under his hands. Smaller. Smaller. Tiny. 

He was going too fast. They burst back apart.

“Fuck!” 

He took a deep breath. Forced himself. In through his nose, out through his mouth. A thin, slow stream. 

_Calm, now. No anger. No passion. Calm. Start again_.

He started again.

***

“Tell me what to say,” Harry said again. “Tell me what they want to hear.”

“I think that based on what Remus is likely to have provided as his evidence, it would be best to present yourself as having a close, and affectionate relationship. Even physical. But not sexual. Can you do that, do you think?”

Harry stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I think it is what you want.”

“But… it isn’t allowed.”

“As I’m sure many authority figures have told you, Harry, the rules do not appear to apply to you.” He smiled again, a little ruefully. “I will not be the one to separate you. Unless you wish to be separated.”

“No!” Harry said at once. “No, I don’t want that. I need him.” He looked down at the twin bracelets on his arms, looking like shackles. “I need him. But… aren’t you - aren’t you going to ask me what we’ve - ”

“No,” Albus interjected. “I will not ask you. And it is better if you do not say. If there is something you want me to know, I will hear it, but otherwise - ”

“No,” Harry said. “There’s nothing. Can we start now?”

***

It took Severus about two of his five hours to realize that it wasn’t what he’d done with his body that was the problem. It was his love. It could not be hidden. He could strip out the sex, and the depravity, and the obscenity, but the love… was huge _._ It was _everywhere._ And he only had three hours left. There was no way to hide it all. Even if he’d had months to prepare, it might not be possible.

But three hours? He couldn’t do it.

***

Albus steepled his fingers and regarded Harry over the tops of his spectacles. “What is the nature of your relationship with Severus Snape?” he asked.

“He’s my teacher,” Harry said. 

“And what else?”

“Well, he’s tutoring me. I have some …” Dumbledore shook his head _no_ very slightly. “I have some trouble… in defense class,” he finished. Dumbledore nodded. “Sometimes I get kind of stressed out when I practice defensive spells,” he continued, and Dumbledore nodded again, the gesture so small as to almost be missed. Ok, he was starting to get it. This was going to be shown to the Governors, and he had to make them want to spare him pain. “I get… you know. Flashbacks. And… sometimes I have a hard time … breathing.” Another nod. Weakness. He needed to be weak. He let his voice shake. “I remember things that I don’t want to remember. People that I - It’s hard to do it in front of the other students. It’s embarrassing.”

“And Professor Snape offered to teach you privately?” 

“Yes.”

“And has he been helping you with anything else?” 

Harry searched his eyes. “I don’t sleep that well,” he said slowly, and Dumbledore gave him another very tiny nod. “He gives me Dreamless Sleep, sometimes. So I don’t have so many nightmares.”

“Do you have a lot of nightmares, Harry?”

“Almost every night.” 

“I see. And when you take the Dreamless Sleep, does Professor Snape sometimes watch over you?”

“Yes.”

“And do you sometimes spend the night in his rooms?”

“Yes.”

“And has Professor Snape ever touched you?”

“He - ” Harry stopped, and looked at his hands. How much did he want? Not none, that was clear. “Well, yes. Sometimes he touches me.”

“How?” 

“He touches my shoulder. Stuff like that.” He paused, and Dumbledore made a very small beckoning motion with one finger. More. Ok. “And he touches my hair. It calms me down. When I’m - upset.” More. “He’s held me a few times. When I’ve cried, you know. To try to get me to stop. I can feel him breathing when he does that, and I can sort of - try to copy him. And… he kissed my forehead, once.” Dumbledore just barely held up two fingers. That was enough. 

“And has he ever made any sexual advances?”

Harry called up a shocked expression. It felt pretty genuine from inside his own head. He hoped it looked ok. “Like what?” he asked. “Like… touching me … under my clothes, or something?”

“Or anything that made you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Never. I mean, why would he? He was,” he hesitated. “He was in love with my mother.”

***

Maybe Severus could modify it some way. Make it acceptable, if not entirely usual. The love of a guardian. A defender. He had those emotions inside of him. Maybe he could do it like that. Make it seem inappropriate, maybe, but not so inappropriate that he’d be stripped of his position. An unusual relationship with an exceptional boy.

Love. His love for Harry - but - different. Softer. Less… greedy.

 _I love him,_ he thought, filtering through his memories. _I want to protect him. I want to keep him safe._

True. 

_I want to heal his wounds, and help him to sleep. I want to make sure that he’s eating. I want to make him smile._

All true. Maybe there was time enough for that. A few things could even stay the same. Others, he could embellish. Adjust. He could even seem possessive, which he was. He could have made mistakes. Bad ones. The Dreamless Sleep. The alcohol, maybe. Mistakes - loathsome mistakes. But… maybe… understandable. 

Maybe.

***

“Was he?” Albus asked.

“Yeah,” Harry continued. “He gave me a book of her letters for Christmas.” He smiled sadly - just a tiny quirk of his lip. “It just about broke my heart.” He tried to call up tears and they came easily. Shockingly easily, really.

“I think that’s quite enough, Harry,” Albus said kindly. “I wouldn’t want to upset you.”

“It’s ok,” he said, and wiped his eyes. “It was such a lovely gift. It meant the world to me. It’s the only thing I have of hers, really. I’d never even seen her handwriting before.”

***

Dumbledore left him at quarter to four in the afternoon. Severus did not come back to say goodbye, but Harry hadn’t expected him to. Whatever he’d been trying to do with his memories must have been terribly difficult. Harry couldn’t even imagine trying to change his own brain like that. Occlumency had felt incomprehensible to him when he’d tried to learn it, and he’d just been throwing up barriers, hadn’t he? Not trying to call forth a whole slew of false thoughts and images. It sounded impossible. And Severus had only had a few hours to try to change everything. He hoped it had been enough.

He found the book of letters from his mother and laid down on the bed to look through them. Now that the shock had worn off, he could actually take in the contents of her words instead of being blinded by the fact that it had been she who wrote them. He started at the very first one and read it through carefully. She must have been around ten years old. Before Hogwarts. Severus had been her neighbor. He wondered what Aunt Petunia had thought of him, and grinned a little. If she met him now, Harry was quite sure she would faint. Maybe they _would_ meet, when Harry had to go back to Privet Drive for the start of the summer. 

He spent a little while fantasizing about Severus terrifying the Dursleys - imagining their faces as he appeared out of thin air at Harry’s call. This tall, pale man, dressed all in black, and so obviously magical that Dudley would probably just drop dead from fear. He imagined Severus taking him away after his seventeenth birthday, and never ever going back. He imagined showing Severus the cupboard where he’d been kept as a child, and then resolved never to do that. He was quite sure that if Severus ever saw it, he would end up in Azkaban for triple homicide. 

Harry turned to the next letter, and touched the stick figure scrawled at the bottom. It was a little person wearing a black wizard hat and brandishing a wand. It had black hair. Maybe it was supposed to be Severus.

***

Dumbledore escorted Severus into a large boardroom, and gestured to a single chair in front of a panel of twelve Witches and Wizards. Severus recognized a few of them, but only a few. The Chairwoman he had met before, and several others he knew by face, if not name. Usually he interacted with board members at the sort of school functions that he loathed the most, and paid the least attention to. Maybe that had been a mistake.

At least Lucius Malfoy had been stripped of his title when he’d been arrested. It wouldn’t do to show a Deatheater what he was about to show these people. And certainly not one he had recently tortured into unconsciousness. Small blessings.

Severus sat in the chair, half expecting chains to shoot out of the arms, but no such thing happened. This was not the Wizengamot, and he was not risking Azkaban. It was the Board of Governors, and he was risking his job. He could do this. Easy. 

He folded his hands in his lap, and sat very straight. There was a pensieve in the center of the long table, directly in front of him - empty, awaiting testimony. 

“Severus Snape,” the Chairwoman began, “you have been called before this board to answer an accusation of sexual impropriety with a student.”

Severus looked her right in the eye. “I am aware of the accusation,” he said. “I am also aware of my accuser. Remus Lupin was sacked by this very board after I brought it to your attention that he is a _Werewolf_. Interesting that you are taking his outrageous lies at face value. He has a vendetta against me.” There was a general murmur as the Governors turned to whisper to each other. The Chairwoman tapped her gavel. 

_Here we go,_ Severus thought.

“That is immaterial,” she said. “He has provided some evidence to support his claim, as we will now review.” She produced a small glass bottle and poured the memories within into the pensieve. Severus held his breath as she tapped the surface with her wand, and a silvery scene rose up out of the basin for the room at large to see. It was Harry, in his bed, back at Headquarters, and Severus, standing in front of him with his hands held out.

 _‘You’ve been drugging him?’_ Remus was asking. ‘ _For how long?’_

Severus watched the scene unfold with interest. He looked so possessive, even then. He watched Remus grab him, and Harry try to get between them. It was incriminating, but not devastating. Harry had slept in his bed. So what? He was dressed. It hadn’t been during term, or even at school. The scene sank below the surface of the pensieve, and the Chairwoman tapped it again. This time, it was Harry and Severus in the snow, just a few days ago. They were seen from rather afar, and Severus watched as the little silver miniature of himself reached out, and touched Harry’s cheek. And the little Harry closed his eyes, and turned into his hand. And then the memory-Severus handed over the package, and touched Harry one more time, and then apparated away. There was no dialogue. Remus hadn’t been close enough to hear them, as he had assumed. 

The Chairwoman tapped the surface a third time, and a memory of Harry in front of the fire appeared. 

_‘Yeah, well,’_ the memory said. _‘Ron’s girlfriend is pretty aggressive. I’m surprised she didn’t try to get invited for Christmas.’_ He smiled, and laughed a little, and then turned to jab a poker into the fire. As he moved, his shirt rode up just a fraction in the back, and as his skin was exposed, so was a little sliver of dark bruising. Just a little. It could be anything. Severus raised his eyebrows. Was this all they had? If it was, it was nothing. 

The Chairwoman tapped the pensieve again, and the image dissolved. Nothing rose up to replace it. It was all they had. That, and a lot of unsupported suspicion. It was _nothing_.

“Professor Snape,” she began. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Severus crossed his legs and steepled his fingers together. “I am not quite sure how any of that indicated that I am engaging in an illicit sexual relationship with Mister Potter,” he said. “In fact, I am quite confused.”

“What is your relationship with him then? He was, as you are aware, I'm sure, in your bed.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Well? What is it, exactly, that you have been doing with him?”

“I have been tutoring him,” Severus began. “He is a special case. He has special needs. Albus and I have been seeing to them since they were brought to our attention.”

“What sort of special needs?”

Severus looked at the twelve Governors each in turn as he next spoke. “How much, exactly, do you know about Harry Potter?” he asked. “Are you aware of what he has been through?”

“We are aware,” the Chairwoman answered.

“Are you?” Severus allowed his voice to sound angry and impatient. These people thought they knew better than he did what Harry needed? They wouldn’t be able to handle him for even a _single day._ “Are you aware that his Godfather was murdered in front of him at the end of last term? You must be aware that his parents were murdered in front of him as an infant. How about his friend, Cedric Diggory? Murdered in front of him two years ago? Are you aware, might I ask, of how many times he has been subjected to mortal peril through no fault of his own? How many times he has escaped horrific death by the very skin of his teeth? And he is _sixteen_. Would you care to ask your question again?” Another small ripple of whispering moved through the assembled board.

“I would,” the Chairwoman began. “What special needs?”

“He doesn’t _sleep_ ,” Snape spat. “And I mean, _at all._ ”

“It is in the statement from Remus Lupin that you have been dosing him with Dreamless Sleep.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Snape asked.

“And the mark?”

Severus met her eyes. “Sometimes he hurts himself. When I’m not there.” She made a skeptical noise, and Severus continued. “I am happy to submit to Legilimency at your leisure, Chairwoman. If you’d like to see how he was before I intervened. If you’d like to see why I even got involved, be my guest.” 

“In a moment. Albus?” Dumbledore stood at her call, and placed a number of glass vials before the pensive in front of her. “First, we might review a bit more evidence.”

The first glass contained Molly Weasley’s memory of walking in on Severus holding Harry on the floor of the bathroom, trying to break him out of catatonia. Severus was happy to see that he was quite covered by the towel around him. He didn’t think Harry would like it if these people all saw his naked body. Then, the scene disappeared, and Molly’s memory of Harry, barely conscious, coming down the stairs at the Burrow appeared. Harry’s weak little, ‘ _Severus?’_ and Severus leaping to his feet. And then Harry falling into his arms, with all those people around. Severus looked at the floor, but then controlled the urge to hide and looked back up.

The second vial contained Albus’ memory of talking to Harry in Severus’ room at Headquarters. Severus had never seen this before, of course, as he’d been downstairs getting punched in the face. He listened as Harry lied fearlessly.

_‘Has Professor Snape ever coerced you into doing anything that you did not want to do?’_

_‘One time he made me drink water and I didn’t want to.’_

_‘Anything else?’_

_‘Just now he made me get out of the blankets to eat. I wanted to stay in the blankets.’_

Fearless.

Then, it was time for some of Severus’ memories. Real ones, and ones he had doctored. They inspected a flurry of images of Harry looking exhausted, and depleted, and lonely, and sad. They watched as Harry stopped short outside the Great Hall, unable to continue. They watched as Severus took his hands, and spoke to him quietly, telling him that he could do anything, that he was strong, he was brave, he was Harry Potter. The scene shifted and they watched as Severus’ touched the raw, scraped marks on his wrists, and asked, ‘ _why did you do this?’_ And Harry’s answer - ‘ _I dunno. I was upset.’_

Adjusted, altered, re-ordered. They looked good. Severus had done a good job. 

Next, was Harry reading quietly in an armchair in Severus’ rooms, and doing homework, and practicing spells. Severus had added his wand back into his hand for these. Then, there was Severus asking Harry how he was treated at home, and Harry, sitting on the sofa, telling Severus that his aunt and uncle didn’t _usually_ hit him but ‘just’ locked him up and ‘sort of’ starved him. And Severus’ answer, _‘they… starved you.’_ And then Harry bursting into tears against the wall, and Severus holding him, whispering to him, stroking his back. 

Next, Harry reading quietly on the sofa with Severus. And then a little closer to him. And then almost touching. And then they were touching - Harry with his head leaning back on Severus’ shoulder, and Severus’ hand absently carding through his hair. A progression: easy, slow, and steady. From teacher, to mentor, to protector, to friend. And then, the last one. Severus and Harry in the snow, outside the burrow. This time, with dialogue. 

_‘Just take me with you,’_ Harry said, looking up at him. _‘Can’t you just take me?’_

_‘You’re almost halfway done. You can make it. You’re strong.’_

_‘I guess.’_

_‘You can. And when you come back to school, you can come straight to the dungeons. I won’t stop you. And - if anything else happens, I can come back.’_ The memory Harry made a little gesture like he wanted to be embraced, and looked over his shoulder.

 _‘Why does Lupin hate you?’_

_‘He doesn’t trust me,’_

_‘I do, though. He should just ask. Instead of accusing you of stuff that you didn’t do.’_

_‘It’s alright. He cares about you. We all do.’_

_‘He wants to take me away from you.’_

_‘I know he does. But he won’t. I promised, and I meant it. I have a gift for you, though. Before I go.’_

Doctored just enough. Just a little bit. Severus looked at Dumbledore, and then at the Chairwoman. She didn’t speak at once, but instead held out her hand to Albus. “You tell me that Mr. Potter declined to come in to speak with us,” she said. “Has he provided a statement?”

“He has,” Dumbledore answered, and tapped his wand to his own temple, drawing out a fresh silvery strand of memory. He let it fall into the pensieve, and the assembled Witches and Wizards turned to look at it. And there was Harry, sitting on the sofa, looking so beautiful, and fragile, and scared, and melancholy that Severus had to stomp down on his hidden memories as they threatened to explode outward. Albus had asked Harry to seem like he needed protection. Like he needed Severus. And he did. Harry _needed him._

They listened as Harry talked about his troubles with defensive magic. The flashbacks, the panic. The shame he felt. The insomnia, and the nightmares. His need for peace was so clear that even Severus, knowing the truth, felt his heart breaking a little for him. A little more, that was. And then, the question: _Has he ever made any sexual advances?_

And Harry’s answer was so incredibly brilliant, so perfect, that Severus was struck dumb. His intuition - so strong - that he could know even from afar what would make these people weep. And when Severus looked up at the Governors, some of them _were_ weeping. Actually, almost all of them were. _He was in love with my mother._ And the letters. 

Harry was a fucking genius. 

The Chairwoman wiped her eyes, and Severus knew, right then, that he was free. All he had to do was keep hidden what needed to be hidden, and he was free. No one could watch that and think that Harry was better off alone. No one on earth.


	11. Respite

At around six in the evening Harry found the bottle of scotch Severus kept in his living room, poured himself a glass, and took it to the sofa to wait. He sipped at it slowly, as slowly as he could, trying to make it last. He didn’t want to get drunk. Well, no. He did want to get drunk. But he wasn’t going to. He just needed to take the edge off of the waiting so he didn’t do something stupid. He didn’t know how long these sorts of things usually took, but it couldn’t be more than a few hours, could it? He just had to be patient.

He flicked his fingers and produced a little flurry of soap bubbles, and then watched them float to the floor and pop. Was it a good sign that Severus had been gone this long, or a bad one? If he was cleared, it would take a long time, wouldn’t it? And if he wasn’t, Dumbledore would come back straight away to tell him, surely. They wouldn’t just… leave him here.

What would even happen if Severus got fired? Maybe Harry could just go with him. Somewhere else. Just drop out of school and run. Maybe they could still be together, even if his statement wasn’t good enough for the Governors. 

He wondered if maybe he should have said more. Or something different. Maybe he should have been more forceful in his denials, or offered to come in person, or… _something._

And just what, exactly, had Lupin told the Governors? What had he seen that made him do this? 

He thought about that, and imagined Lupin in front of twelve strangers, holding forth about his private business. Showing them memories. Telling tales. Probably he would show them Harry in Severus’ bed back at Headquarters. Maybe Severus scaring off the minister. And who knew what else?

He drank a little more, feeling like he was coming out of his skin with anxiety. Like he would sell his soul to be able to ask Severus how it was going. But he couldn’t, because Severus’ bracelet was on his wrist, and not where it was supposed to be. 

What a nightmare. 

He tapped his foot and tried not to just drink straight out of the bottle. Then he stood up, paced around the room, sat on the floor, and got up again. 

This was excruciating. He needed something to do with his hands. Like strangle Remus Lupin.

Maybe he could practice charms or something like that. What could he do? 

He looked around for inspiration, and his eye caught on the little black and white chess set they sometimes played. Maybe he could make a better one. Lions and snakes, maybe. Severus would probably like that. He’d probably think that was funny. That would be good to do. 

Yes. A chess set. A nice one, that he and Severus could play, when he got back.

Harry sat back down on the floor, imagining what the pieces might look like. Then, after a while, he began summoning them. First the kings, and then the queens. Little crowned creatures with sparkling eyes. When he was happy with them, he set them aside, and moved on to the bishops and the knights. He took his time, rubbing his eyes when they got blurry, making each piece perfect before moving onto the next. Slowly, as he worked his way through the rooks, and began on the pawns, he started to calm down. Sixteen emerald green pieces, and sixteen ruby red pieces. Intricate, down to their expressions. Grave, serious little faces. Raised tails and exposed fangs. A matched set. 

He didn’t quite get all the way through the pawns, though. Right as he was inspecting the second to last one, the fire ignited. 

Harry shrieked and jumped to his feet, dumping the pieces onto the carpet. If Dumbledore came out of that fire to tell him that Severus wasn’t coming back, he thought he would just drop dead right to the floor. If it was Dumbledore, he would just fucking die. 

But it wasn’t Dumbledore.

It was Severus.

And as he stepped out of the hearth, Harry realized that he’d thought he would never see Severus again. That was what he’d been thinking, in the back of his mind, as he made the chess set. He was never going to see Severus Snape again. 

And here he was.

“Severus!” Harry gasped, and before he knew what was happening he was up against the wall and Severus’ tongue was in his mouth. And oh holy god he was overcome with such a desperate need that it almost _hurt_.

“I _told you,_ didn’t I?” Severus growled. “I _told you_ I’d come back.”

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll explode,” Harry answered, fisting both hands in the front of his robes to keep him from pulling away.

“Don’t worry,” Severus answered, kissing him again, sliding one hand into his hair and the other up underneath the hem of his shirt. “I have never wanted you more. You’re _brilliant_. You had that room wrapped around your finger and you weren’t even _there_.”

“Tell me later,” Harry breathed, tearing his glasses off of his face and tossing them out of the way. “Clothes off, now.” And then his clothes were off. Vanished, right off his body. Severus blinked. He’d certainly never taught him to do _that._

He pulled out his wand. “Mine too. Mine too.” And Harry moved his hands to his chest, and gasped, and a little shiver ran through him, and then all at once there was nothing between them. Skin on naked skin. And to think Severus might have never had this again. “Let me take you to bed,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Not the bed,” Harry answered. “Right here.” 

There was a beat of silence as their eyes met, and then Severus hoisted him up against the wall and hooked his arms under his knees. 

“As you command.”

 _“Yes,”_ Harry gasped, wrapping his arms around Severus’ shoulders and neck to try to bear some of his own weight. “Oh, yes, _please_.” Severus touched his wand to Harry’s skin, spoke the words, and then dropped it on floor. 

“If you want it right here I’m going to fuck you right here. Hold tight.” And, without preamble, Severus began to lower him down, using gravity to spear him open.

“Oh - _God_ ,” Harry cried out, clutching at him, flexing his legs. “I think I’m - going to come - _really_ fast.” 

“I like it when you do,” Severus answered, shifting forward, bracing one knee against the wall and tilting his hips up to sink in the last inch. And then, fully sheathed, he withdrew, and rocked forward. Harry whimpered and dug in his nails, and Severus did it again, turning his face into his neck, inhaling, wanting to get as much of him as he could. “Do you know what I would have done - if they told me I couldn't come back?”

_“Tell me.”_

“I - ” Severus began, his words breaking off with a grunt of effort as he began to find a rhythm, knocking a series of short, sharp cries out of Harry’s mouth. “I would have - blasted - a fucking hole - in the wall. And - ah - apparated to the grounds - Taken you - to Spinner's End. Put a glamour on you - hidden you - away. And then - I’d go find Remus Lupin - and I’d rip out his _heart -_ and I’d _bring it to you_ \- ”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry moaned back. “Severus, god, I thought you were _gone_.” His nails were cutting hard into Severus’ skin, and when he dragged them down they stuttered agonizingly across his scars, and it hurt terribly, and he wanted _so much more_.

“Never,” Severus growled. And then - “ _Harder._ Harry, your _nails. Harder_.” He braced his feet, crushing him against the wall, and Harry’s fingernails cut savagely into the back of his neck and down across his shoulder blade. And it was perfect - it was just what he wanted - because right at that moment, he wanted Harry to cut him open. Wanted to bleed for him. Wanted to wear his scars _forever_. And not just on the inside. He wanted to be able to see it in the mirror. He wanted to be _disfigured_.

Severus kissed him again, his mouth open, and Harry, almost weeping, raked his nails down the side of Severus’ neck and towards his chest. But this time, there was much less force - like he’d gone _weak_ \- and he sounded that way, too - and Severus knew that he must be right on the edge, and reached between them to get at his cock. He hardly even had a chance to touch it, though, before Harry was coming - clutching at him desperately, his body clenching down around him with an excruciating burst of pleasure. But Severus did not stop kissing him - did not stop fucking him, either, as he peaked - shaking and gasping - and did not stop as his body went slack and plient in his arms. He kept going, holding him up, thrusting into him, wanting almost to crawl inside of him. He could feel Harry’s fingers slipping across the skin of his shoulders and back, and finally broke the kiss to look into his eyes. 

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” Harry answered, and moved to touch his face. 

His fingertips were bloody. 

They both saw it at the same moment, and Harry gasped, and Severus dragged him away from the wall and onto the floor. And on the floor, Severus turned him over, jerked him up onto his knees, and pushed immediately back into him. Holding his head to the rug with one hand, he pulled his hips back with the other. 

“Tell me how hard you want it,” he said. “I’ll give you whatever you want - just tell me.” 

“Oh _f-fuck_ ,” Harry sobbed, spreading his knees on the floor. “ _Severus_ \- hard - hard - I want you to - _GOD.”_ He braced one foot beside Harry’s head and laid into him. 

“What else?” he demanded. _“Tell me - what - you want.”_

 _“Please - ”_ He grabbed Severus’ ankle. “I’m _blank_. I’m all blank - fix it - fix it.” He could hardly get the words out. He was breathless, and dazed, and looking down at his naked body pinned underneath him, Severus saw that he _was_ blank. Perfect. Spotless. Not a single mark on him. 

What a travesty. 

He leaned over, and began to suck bruises onto every part of him he could reach. His shoulders, and back, and side, and the nape of his neck, and then, when Harry was shaking, and a continuous stream of begging and profanity was pouring out of his mouth, Severus pulled out, and turned him onto his back. Kneeling before him, he dragged Harry’s hips up onto his thighs, and Harry’s legs wrapped around him, and he started again. Suck marks on his chest, his collar bones, his neck. Dark, with teeth, on his belly, and over his ribs. Marking him, all over. And Harry was hard again. So hard he was _dripping_.

“Mine,” Severus breathed, and took him in hand. He was still slick from his first release, and Severus knew as he touched him that this was not going to take long at all. He went still, wanting to watch, and then began to move his hand, tightening his fingers, twisting, circling, sliding his thumb over the tip, and Harry threw his head back against the floor. It was almost immediate. He _screamed_ \- and it was _everything -_ and Severus started fucking him again, deep - as deep as he could get - feeling his body contract and spasm around him, so delicious, so forbidden, and they were getting away with it. With all of it. With every terrible thing he had done to this boy - this beautiful boy - they were fucking _getting away with it_. And he was coming too, his whole body tingling, rippling with goosebumps, spilling inside of him. Harry, his lover. Still his. 

It was a fucking _miracle_. 

***

“You’re bleeding.”

“Mm?” They were still on the floor. Naked, on the rug, behind the sofa. It felt like the perfect place to be, just then. 

“My nails. I - cut you.”

“You did.”

“Can I see?” Severus turned to lay on his belly, and pillowed his head on his hands as Harry touched his back lightly with his fingertips.

“How is it?” he asked, rather amused at this show of concern.

“Uh,” Harry began.

“That bad, hm?” Severus laughed, and summoned his wand. He cleaned them both, and then sat up on his haunches. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“I think maybe I should put something on that.”

“It’s fine,” Severus answered. “Nothing to worry about.” He wanted to keep them. He hoped they would heal badly and leave an awful scar. 

“Severus,” Harry said, sounding stern. Severus looked at him. 

“My, my,” he began. “You sound so annoyed. How the tables turn.” Harry glared. The effect wasn’t that convincing with him naked and pink and covered with marks. He looked quite adorable, in fact. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. “You made me.” Severus raised his eyebrows and gestured at Harry’s body. “Well, that’s hardly the same.” 

“Why not? Because it’s you?”

“Well. I mean…” he trailed off, and looked down at himself, spotted with purple bruises in the shape of Severus’ mouth. “I’m - Oh.”

“Indeed. Remember this feeling next time you tell me not to say I’m sorry. Now. Are you hungry?”

He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything at all since the toast the morning before. “Yeah, actually, I’m starving,” he said. Funny, he hadn’t thought of food at all while Severus was gone, and now he was ravenous. 

Severus helped him up, and they went into the bedroom to dress. There were rather a lot of Harry’s clothes in Severus’ closet by this time, and he selected a pair of tartan pajama pants and one of his overlarge tees. Fully five suck marks were left exposed by its stretched-out neck.

“I might have to heal this one,” Severus said, moving close enough to touch the highest bruise left showing. “I will have to, in fact.”

“It’ll probably be gone by the first day of term,” Harry answered. “If it’s still there when I have to leave, you can take it away.”

“Fair.” Severus gestured to his right wrist. “And that?”

“Oh,” Harry began, offering his arm. “That you can have now.” Severus tapped the bracelet with his wand, slipped it off, and put it back on his own left wrist, just below his dark mark where it belonged. When it was secure, he turned it in the light. 

“I’m happy to have it back,” he said. “I felt naked without it.” Harry interlaced their fingers, and then kissed the back of his hand. 

“Never again, right?”

“No,” Severus answered. “Never again.” 

_Never._

***

“I’m ready to listen, now,” Harry said, sitting curled up on his chair at the dining table. “You were going to tell me what happened, before.” He’d already finished eating. He’d demolished two plates of spaetzle and what had seemed to Severus like an entire loaf of bread.

“Was I?” Severus asked, poking at his own food. “I must confess it’s been quite driven out of my head.”

“Ha,” Harry scoffed. “If anyone had anything driven out of their head it was me. What happened?”

“Well.” 

Severus told him how the evidence against them had been so slim as to almost be laughable. How the most incriminating memory Remus had given them was a single image of Severus touching Harry’s cheek. He told him how Molly had provided information to their defense, and about the memories he’d modified, and how the board of Governors was quite convinced that Severus was obsessed with Harry to an inappropriate degree, but had never laid a finger on him. He told Harry how the Chairwoman and Dumbledore had both subjected him to Legilimency and found nothing horrible enough to get him fired, though he had been scolded quite severely. And then he told him how Harry’s utterly perfect statement had driven the board to tears.

“I thought maybe you’d be angry,” Harry answered. “Me bringing up the letters again.”

“Angry?” Severus put down his fork and crossed his arms over the table. “Harry, that was _incredible_.” Harry blushed.

“Well, I mean, it was Ron that made me think of it. He came to check on me before I … before - before I went to sleep. And it was the letters that made him decide that maybe you and I - that our thing was kind of understandable. So, I thought maybe other people would think that, too.”

“The Governors were crying. It was perfect.”

“Good to know I’m so tragic. Dumbledore helped me too, though. He kind of… coached me. I wasn’t going to say all that stuff about Defense class or my nightmares or whatever, but he pulled it out of me. And you kissing my forehead. He said to say that. Or he, kind of, made a signal. That he wanted me to say more.”

Severus nodded. He’d been on the receiving end of Albus’ gestures a few times. It was stressful, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by them. “Well, you were spot on.”

“So, what, are you just totally in the clear? They must have had something to say about me sleeping in your bed. And the potions and stuff. I assume that came up.”

“Yes, it did,” Severus answered. “I’ve been sanctioned.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mostly a pay dock.” Harry put down his glass and started to laugh. “What?” Severus asked. Harry covered his face. “What’s funny?”

“A pay dock?” he gasped. “Severus - wow. This is going to sound so stupid - but - you - do you - ” he couldn’t get the words out. It must be the stress. He was hysterical.

“What?” Severus asked again. “Merlin, Potter, take a breath.” Harry wiped his eyes.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just - ” he took a sip of water. “Just - do you even get paid?” He burst into laughter again.

Severus stared at him for a long moment and then started to laugh, too. What kind of fucking question - what kind of question was that? Did he get paid. Lord in heaven. Idiot boy.

***

“What’s this?”

“Chess set.”

Severus stooped down to pick up one of the green knights. “You made these? You have quite an eye.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and scooping the scattered pieces into a pile. “I needed something to do while you were gone so I didn’t drink all your scotch. Or. You know. Jump off the Astronomy tower.” Severus ignored that. It wasn’t funny.

“How did you make them?”

“I just sort of… imagined them. What they would look like, and then I made them one by one.”

“How, though?”

“Just like that. Just kind of thought of them. I didn’t quite finish, though.” He gave Severus a roguish little grin. “I got distracted.”

He had gotten distracted, hadn’t he? He’d gotten distracted right up against the wall.

“They’re quite lovely.” Severus gave Harry the knight and picked up the red queen. “Very symbolic.”

“I was trying to be funny.”

That wasn’t really funny, either, Severus thought, but it was rather touching. If heavy-handed. “Will you finish it? I’d like to see you make one, if I may.”

“Sure, if you want. Then we can play.” Harry began separating the pieces by color, counting them out. “Can we have a drink?”

“I’m not supposed to give you any more alcohol, you know. The Governors really didn’t like that.”

“Not supposed to stick your cock in me either, probably.”

“No I am not. Wine?”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

Severus sent for a bottle, and poured, watching as Harry called forth a little lion pawn out of thin air and inspected it. He scowled and turned it in the lamplight, and it shimmered a little, its tail changing position.

“You know, Harry,” Severus began, handing him a glass. “That is uncommon magic.”

“Is it?” Harry wasn’t really listening. He was setting up the board.

“Yes.” What were they even made of? Their little eyes almost looked like precious gems. Severus had not taught him this, either. Hadn’t taught him anything for a while, maybe. 

They played two games, which Harry lost. He usually lost. He wasn’t that good at chess. 

***

They had days and days together. Six, in fact, before the rest of the students were due to return. Dumbledore did not come to trouble them, and neither did anyone else. They were alone, together, without interruption, for the longest period of time they’d ever had. And Harry seemed to want to spend every moment touching him. He slept a great deal, curled up in Severus’ arms, and when they ate together, more often than not, Harry’s foot would be resting against his leg under the table. It was almost like he was reassuring himself that Severus was still there. That he had, in fact, not been taken away. And, of course, if Severus was honest - he felt just the same. He wanted to touch him. His hand, and his hair, and his shoulder, and back. Wanted the weight and warmth of his body, quiescent in sleep. Wanted to love him. To keep him close. To know, in the heat of his breath, that he was still here, too. That however short their time together might be, it had not yet ended. 

He didn’t say that out loud, though. Instead, they spoke of inconsequential things. Severus thought that Harry could use a good long break from anything at all serious. In fact, if Severus had it in his power, he thought he’d prevent anything serious from happening to him ever again. 

They didn’t even leave the dungeons for three whole days and nights. 

But then, on the fourth day - January the 2nd - Harry seemed ready for more. He was incredibly resilient, really.

“Is that all there is?” Harry asked that afternoon, fiddling with his chess pieces. He was stacking them up into a truly unbelievable tower that defied all laws of physics, and absentmindedly making his way through a box of chocolate biscuits.

“Is what all?” Severus asked back, looking up from his book. 

“My magic. Am I all done? It isn’t really hard anymore. It doesn’t hurt my hands, and we’ve already covered conjuring, and charms, and defensive magic, and transfiguration, and jinxes. Is that all there is?” Severus put his book aside and folded his hands.

“No,” he said evenly. “That is not all there is.”

“What else, then?” Harry asked. He placed the final piece, the king snake, balanced on his head at the very tip of his tower, and turned to look at Severus. 

“Well, there is one more type of magic that we have not yet revisited,” he said, thinking of being thrown into the wall at Headquarters. “Pure intention.” Harry hugged his knees.

“But... that’s how I hurt myself. Isn’t it? That’s what Hermione said.”

“Yes, that is how you hurt yourself. But I think you might be able to manage some, now. You’re much stronger than you were in August. Although… I thought we might wait a while. Until you are fully recovered - to try again.”

“I feel fine,” Harry said. “I feel pretty good, actually.” 

He had been sleeping and eating well, Severus supposed. His mood was good, and his wit was sharp. And maybe it would be smart to try a bit before the school filled back up again. If it went poorly, there would be time to fix it. And they didn’t have to do anything complicated right away. It could be something relatively straightforward. And then Severus could see how Harry handled it, and would have a better idea of where to go next.

“We might try, if you like,” he said slowly. “Out in the grounds.”

“The grounds?” 

“Yes. In here we are rather limited to which of my belongings I’m willing to destroy.”

***

They dressed in their winter clothes, and Severus led him through the empty corridors and out into the snow. They passed Hagrid’s cabin, and the Whomping Willow, and kept going, all the way to the very edge of the Forbidden Forest. And then finally, once the Castle was almost completely out of sight, Severus took Harry by the hand through the fresh powder and bade him stay. Harry stood still and watched him as he moved back about three meters.

“You aren’t going to leave me out here, are you?” he asked, a little nervous despite himself.

“Certainly not,” Severus answered. “I’m just giving you some space. Now, I thought we might start with something simple. Clear the snow.” Harry looked down at his feet.

“Clear it?” he asked. “With what?”

“Magic.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I meant what spell.”

“No spell.” 

“What, just like that?” he asked. “But - I thought we were going to work up to it.” 

“You have already worked up to it. Did you use a spell to make your chess pieces?”

Harry frowned at him.“Well, no, but that’s different,” he said.

“Is it? No wand, and no incantation, verbal or otherwise. And you were fine. Absolutely unaffected. You weren’t even tired, as far as I’m aware. And you did it while upset, and hungry, and afraid, and still - nothing. There is much more magic inside of you than you know. You don’t need your wand, or your words. And you don’t need incantations. Now.” He gestured to the ground. “Clear the snow.” 

Harry looked back down at his feet and took a deep breath. Then, he opened his hands.

Nothing happened. He looked up at Snape standing there watching him, and tried again. Still nothing. Not even a tingle. Not a single flake of snow so much as twitched.

“I don’t really understand what I’m supposed to do,” he said, looking skeptically at his own fingers.

“Think. How did you blast Lupin off of me?”

“I panicked.”

“How did you make those chess pieces, then? That wasn’t panic. You just wanted them, that’s all. You have to want it.”

“How can I make myself want something?”

Severus thought about that. 

_Had_ Harry wanted to do that, at Headquarters? Had he really wanted the chess set? Or did he, perhaps, think that _Severus_ wanted it? Did he want Lupin to stop hurting _Severus?_ Did he make _Severus_ a little stone snake, all those weeks ago?

Whose desires, really, were these? 

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way.

He looked over to the castle. No one could see them. Hardly anyone was even there - and certainly no one would be out this far in the grounds on such a frigid day. He hesitated, and then walked back over to where Harry was standing, and grabbed him by the jaw. “I want it,” he said fiercely, forcing Harry to look into his eyes. “Clear. The snow. Now.” 

Harry inhaled. It sounded almost _painful._

And then there was a rustle, and when Severus looked down he saw that they were standing in a two-meter circle of bare earth. Dark, and wet, and scraped clean. A _perfect circle._ Severus let go but did not step back.

“You see?” he asked. Harry looked around their feet, bewildered. “You are a force of nature. Again. Larger.” 

“Again?”

Severus could hear the fear in his voice, and wondered if maybe they should stop. If Harry was - getting upset. Maybe they should stop. “One more,” he said, and wrapped his arms around him. “You can do one more. I know you can.” 

“Okay,” Harry whispered, resting his forehead on Severus’ chest, bringing his hands up, and taking another deep, slow breath. “Okay. I can.”

“Yes.”

Nothing happened for a long moment, but then suddenly, Harry gasped, and his fingers dug in, and - he did not clear more snow. 

He did something else. 

There was a crackling noise, and all at once, the circle of frozen soil around them exploded into furious life. Daisies, poppies, and white clover. Primrose, yarrow, and grass - _burst_ out of the ground. 

Severus stared around them, speechless, and then tightened his arms as Harry’s body sagged a little against him. But he didn’t fall. 

“Flowers,” he whispered, not lifting his head to look. “You wanted - flowers.”

Severus had said he wanted flowers, hadn’t he? And here they were. And Harry was still standing. Still holding onto him. Still _conscious_. 

Intention. Intuition. Will. Harry’s will. To give Severus what he wanted. To please him, and to win his love. And he had. Oh, he had. 

“Flowers,” Severus agreed. 

Harry just clutched him harder, and still did not look at what he’d done. “I’m scaring myself.” 

“You’re scaring me, too.” 

Harry turned his head against Severus’ chest to peak down at the ground, and then he started to shake. “This isn’t normal,” he breathed. “I’m not normal. You said - to do the snow - and I - ” His voice broke, and Severus shushed him, moving one hand to the back of his head, and into his hair.

“Harry,” he said. “It’s alright. It’s beautiful. If I’d known I could have asked for it, I would have.” He closed his eyes. “It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful.” 

_And so are you. Beautiful, and terrifying, and precious, and I love you._

Harry _was_ a force of nature. But not what Severus had thought. Not a hurricane. Not a wildfire. Not a tornado, or an earthquake. Everyone wanted him to _fight_ , but that was a mistake. He wasn’t a fighter. He was more powerful than destruction. He was _creation_. 

He was the very spring, come to life.


	12. Flowers

They picked some of the flowers before going back up to the castle, and Severus put them in water while Harry went to lie down. He’d been stumbling by the time they made it back into the Great Hall, and had barely made it down to the dungeons before collapsing into bed. Severus brought the bouquet into the bedroom and put it on Harry’s bedside table, and then laid down beside him. Harry slept quite through dinner, and all the way through the night, and well into the morning. But he hadn’t fainted. And he hadn’t been bleeding, and when he woke up he wasn’t in pain. Well, he said his feet hurt a little bit. Probably he’d cast the magic through them. Through his _feet._

If Severus had somehow managed to do magic like that without a wand, he would have been dead on the ground out in the snow. But Harry was just tired. He was unfathomably strong - and each time Severus thought he had reached his limit, he was wrong. There was no limit, or so it seemed. Just magic, all the way down. 

He needed to talk to Albus about this. Surely this changed everything.

***

“I have never seen anything like it in my life.”

Albus and Severus were standing together out in the grounds, before the circle of wildflowers Harry had called forth. They were frozen, now, but still clearly visible. And in the center of this patch of incongruous spring, the indentation of their feet. Albus crouched down to touch one icy blade of grass.

“Quite unusual,” he said slowly.

“Unusual? Albus. I asked him to clear the snow off the ground and he did _this._ ”

“And how was he, after?”

“He was exhausted.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Do you think…?” Severus stopped as Albus stood up. 

“Do I think it can save him?”

“Yes.”

“No, I do not.”

“Headmaster.”

Albus met his gaze, and folded his hands together behind his back. “Severus,” he said. “You know there is no other way.”

“ _No other way?_ But this - Albus - surely this changes everything. He’s a treasure. He could do so much good. The Wizarding World could be forever changed. His magic is - ”

Albus cut him off. “He has already changed The Wizarding World forever. And he will change it again, with his death. There is no other way.” 

Severus looked down at the frozen flowers, and then at the dark place where Harry had stood in his arms to make them. “Couldn’t we just - contain, or - or weaken the Dark Lord somehow?” he asked. “Give Harry a chance to _live_ \- at least for a few more years?” 

Albus’ eyes were cold when he looked back up.

“Why?” he asked. “So you can keep him a little longer? You are still so selfish, Severus.”

Severus jerked back like he’d been slapped. “ _Selfish?_ That - is too far.”

“Is it? You’d leave the Dark Lord alive to continue his campaign of terror so that you can hold on a little longer to your sixteen year old lover? What heroism.”

“How dare you,” Severus began, almost paralyzed with fury. “If you really think that’s true, you should have let the Governors sack me. No - you should have let Lupin cut my throat. Kill me now, where I stand, if you think Harry is just a _body_ to me.” He dragged back his sleeve to expose the silver bracelet. “You gave me this. You gave me _him_. And I’ve done everything that you told me to do. I’ve taught him, and calmed him, and made him sleep. I’ve done my best to protect him. To keep him alive until you’re _done with him_.” He took a deep breath. “You don’t care about him. You never did. If you had, you’d have taken him away from me back in August. Before things got so… before he - But I forget. You don’t want to know, do you? You don’t _care._ Well, I care. I want to save him, and it’s not because of his _body_.” 

“He cannot be saved.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know it.” 

Severus turned away and looked into the dark forest behind them, disgusted. Albus thought he knew everything. But he hadn’t seen what Harry was capable of. He didn’t know fucking _anything_. “You’re wrong.”

“I wish that I was.”

How could he be so sure? How could he still expect Severus to go through with this, now? To send someone so precious into the _maw_. Even if it saved the world, what was the point? What was the point of the world at all, if Harry wasn’t in it?

“I can’t do this. I won’t.”

“You must.”

“I CAN’T.” Albus’ hand touched his shoulder and he shrugged it off. “You take too much for granted, Headmaster.”

“Severus,” his voice was stern. Almost like Severus was still twenty-one, on his knees in Albus’ office, begging for mercy. “You have given me your word, and I must insist you follow through with it.” 

Severus whipped back around. _“You,”_ he spat. “You’d have me lead you both to the chopping block. No, more than that. You’d have me wield the _axe_.”

“Yes. And you must.” He sounded so calm. Severus was not calm. He felt that he might tear out his own heart and leave it here in the snow. Leave it to freeze, out here, in the open. To be picked apart by carrion birds. “And I need to know that you will do what must be done when I am gone. You are the one, Severus.” 

_You are the one._

Severus did not speak for a long while, but just looked back at the circle of frozen flowers. He tried to imagine what this would do to Harry, and couldn’t. It was like his mind couldn’t summon enough misery. Like it was already saturated. How could Albus ask this of him? How much of his soul would he have to scratch out to go through with it? There would be nothing left. Just a _hole._ Just a gaping, bloody wound.

“And after?” he finally asked. “What will become of me?” Dumbledore touched his shoulder again, and this time Severus did not cast his hand away. He felt numb. Empty.

“My hope is that you will live, Severus. As it always has been.” 

And then suddenly, Severus found that the numbness was gone, and in its place arose a fierce, burning pain. Behind his eyes, and in his throat, and lungs, and belly. What an unspeakably cruel thing to imply. That living could be possible, after this. 

Albus’ hand withdrew, and Severus turned to look at him, thinking that maybe he would beg for mercy again, now, if he thought there was any to be found. 

“I think that time is drawing short,” the Headmaster continued. “Tell Harry that our next meeting has been scheduled for Monday evening, eight o’clock, will you?” 

Severus could not answer. So, he just nodded, instead. 

_Yes, Headmaster._

***

Severus stayed out in the snow for a while, and when he made his way back to his rooms, he found that Harry had been busy during his absence. They were absolutely full of flowers. Bunches and bunches of them. All over the table, and the floor, and cascading over the arms of the sofa. Harry was sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth, and hovering over his hand was a little cactus in bloom.

“Look!” he said. “A cactus! I’ve never seen one in person before. Do you think it’s right?”

Severus felt that he might faint with grief. 

“My goodness,” he said, moving carefully through the room so as not to tread on any blossoms. He crouched down beside him to look at the little fat thing. Harry withdrew it.

“Don’t touch it!” he said. “It’s pointy.” Then he met Severus’ eyes, and his face fell. “What happened?” 

And Severus had thought he’d been making a neutral expression. Obviously not neutral enough. “I had an argument with the Headmaster.”

“Was it about me?”

“Yes.” Severus sat down beside him on the floor. “He wants to meet with you Monday evening. I told him that was too soon. He did not agree.”

“It’s ok,” Harry answered. “I can do it. Hang on.” He conjured a little ceramic pot filled with soil and nestled the cactus inside. Then he put it on the coffee table between some bunches of lavender, and pointed his finger at it. Watching him concentrate and twist up his mouth, Severus was quite sure that he was rooting it. 

“That is very charming,” he said.

“Oh,” Harry began. He pointed his finger at it again and the Slytherin crest appeared on the side of the pot. “It’s for you! I never got you a Christmas present.” 

His smile was radiant, and Severus had to wonder - how many ways were there for a single heart to break? A hundred? A thousand?

Surely he must be near the limit, now.

Surely there couldn’t be any _more._

***

That night, Severus did not sleep. Instead, he lay awake, his mind racing, trying to think of some way out. Not for him, though. For Harry. Some way to keep him alive. Some way to separate the fragment of Voldemort’s spirit from his body. Some way to shield him. To protect him. To die in his place, even. He just lay there for hours, listening to Harry’s breath, and thinking. He wasn’t even tired. Not as the night wore on, and not as he knew that it must be close to daybreak. He felt that he had never been more awake in his life. That, perhaps, he would never sleep again.

Maybe he could just keep training him. Making him stronger, and stronger, and stronger. Then, maybe Harry would be able to come up with something. Some mad stroke of inspiration at a critical moment. Something Severus would never be able to think of. That was what he did, wasn’t it? Insane, intuitive leaps of faith. He’d done it so many times before. Maybe he could do it again. 

But there was something else to deal with first. Albus had said that time was drawing short, and that meant that soon, there would be a chasm for Harry to cross. And he would have to cross it alone. He would have to withstand the death of Albus Dumbledore, at Severus’ hands. And after it was done, Harry would need to survive on his own, at least for a while. Severus had to figure out how to make him strong enough. How to prepare him, without telling him, if that was even possible. 

Severus had been remiss, thinking that he had more time. But he didn’t. He had to start now. Because Harry had to survive it when Severus needed to run, and if it happened tomorrow, he wouldn’t. The magic wasn’t enough. Harry had to be taught to calm himself. To draw himself out of his own panic. To sleep by himself, with no potions.

If Severus could do that - could teach him well enough - hone him sharp enough - love him enough - maybe it would _be_ enough, in the end. 

And if it wasn’t… well. Best not to think of that now. Term was starting in two days, and Harry would have to go back out into the castle. To pretend to be his student again. Harry would need him to be strong. To stand firm beside him, for as long as he could.

“What are you doing?” 

_Oh shit, he’s awake._

“Thinking,” Severus answered.

“What about?” Harry turned on his side, and Severus felt the familiar tickle of his hair, and then the gentle pressure of his forehead resting against him. _I love you,_ he thought. _Oh, god. I love you._

“Just you.”

“Mm,” Harry murmured. “Don’t want to say?”

Severus reached over to touch his hair, and then slid his palm down his back. “I’m thinking about the start of term.” 

“Me, too.” Harry ran light fingers down Severus’ neck and chest, where the shallower scratches had been. The ones on his back were at the itchy stage of healing, but where Harry was touching him now, the marks were already gone. Severus remembered them, though, and Harry’s touch there felt good. “I’m going to have to go back to my dorm, aren’t I?” he asked. “Even though - even though we got through the hearing.”

“Yes. You will. At least some of the time.”

“I figured.” Harry’s breath was warm on his chest, and Severus had the sudden urge to tell him absolutely everything. To just … tear it all down.

“We still have to be careful,” he said instead. “If anyone else sounds the alarm there will be no going back.”

“What about when I turn seventeen?” 

“Not even then,” Severus answered. “While you are still at school we cannot be together.” _I will never have him._

“Don’t people know that there’s a war happening? Why does everyone care so much who I’m sleeping next to?” It all sounded so stupid when he said it like that. All these people trying to control him. Trying to protect him. To keep him from being _damaged_. Because none of them knew anything about him. They just knew who they wanted him to be.

“We all like to pretend things are normal much longer than is helpful, don’t we?” 

Harry laughed gently. “We sure do,” he breathed. “And now you’re not even getting your full salary.” 

Severus laughed a little, then, too. “I’d set fire to my Gringotts vault just to have you for a single day,” he said. Harry pulled on him, and kissed him on the cheek. 

“All your promises are so violent,” he whispered. 

“Sorry,” Severus answered.

“It’s ok. I like it. Seems real.” Severus turned a little so that their temples were resting together, and did not speak. “Can I ask you something else?” Harry asked, after a while. “About - the war.”

“Of course,” Severus murmured back. “I will answer, if I can.”

“If I’d died at Headquarters, or - at the Burrow, what would have happened?”

“To me, or to the Order?”

“The Order.”

“Well,” Severus began, looking into the darkness. “I suppose it would have soldiered on without you, and done it’s best to prove the prophecy wrong.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know what I would have done.” 

Harry was silent for a while, and Severus hoped he was finished, but he wasn’t. He was just thinking. “I should try to make you promise to keep going even if something happens to me,” he said. Severus's heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze. He was the one that should try to make Harry promise that. But that would tip his hand.

“Why are you thinking about this?” 

“I dunno,” Harry answered slowly. “I guess… you seem… sad.” 

Severus tried to stay relaxed against him. Thank god Harry had never shown an interest in Legilimency. If he had, there would be no hiding anything. 

“I suppose I am rather sad,” Severus said. “I’d like to keep you here forever, and I will have to share you with the rest of the castle again very soon. If I had my way, I’d never let you leave.”

“I don’t think that’s why.” Severus slid his palm down over Harry’s waist, feeling his warmth, and the softness of his skin, and wondering if Harry was somehow actually reading his mind. His feelings, maybe. Something. “Severus?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“I think you know that I have.”

“Is it hard?”

_Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. That’s what we told him. Kill, or die. Despicable._

Severus tugged him closer, nestling Harry’s head under his chin. “Are you asking me if I think you are a killer?” Harry didn’t answer, and Severus kissed the top of his head, and continued anyway. “Yes, it is hard,” he said. “It hurts, and it’s ugly. But if it must be done, then it must be done.” He paused, breathing in the scent of his hair. “The Dark Lord feels no pain. He kills with impunity. He enjoys it. But we do not enjoy it. We, fighting to purge him from the world.” He closed his eyes. “For us, it is terrible, but necessary work. We do what we must, and we suffer for it.”

Harry did not speak for a long time, and Severus rather hoped that he’d fallen back asleep, though he knew he hadn’t. He was just lying there, awake, like Severus was. Worrying.

“Will you still love me even if I can’t do it?” Harry finally asked.

 _I will love you even if the sky falls_ , Severus thought. And then he said it out loud, because it was the truth. 

“I will love you even if the sky falls.”

Though maybe he should have said, ‘ _when.’_

***

“Well,” Harry said, tugging at his collar. “Anything visible?” Severus walked in a slow circle around him.

“You look perfectly pristine.”

“Not under my shirt I don’t.” He smiled a little, but it fell almost at once as he looked at the floor. “When can I come back?”

It was Monday morning, and the student body had already begun arriving by floo all over the school. The network had been expanded for this one day to allow Hogwarts to refill safely, and Severus was due in his office in fifteen minutes to begin accepting Slytherins into his fireplace. 

“See how you feel after your meeting with Albus,” Severus said. 

“Okay,” Harry answered, and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you think - ” he began, and then stopped. “Do you think anyone knows what happened over break?”

“I can’t see how they would.” _Detentions all around if anyone says a single word to you._ “I’m sure the talk will be all about Apparition Training.”

“Apparition Training?”

“Oh, yes. The Sixth Form always wreaks havoc on itself this time of year. Splinched arms and legs everywhere.”

“Is it hard?”

“For you, I shouldn’t think so. In fact, it might be wise for you to take care not to succeed too early.” Harry grinned. 

“You have such high hopes for me.”

“You haven’t disappointed me yet.” Harry offered his hands, and Severus took his wrists, and squeezed them tight. “It’s time to go,” he said. 

“Back to Gryffindor tower.”

“Yes.” 

“Order me.”

“I order you.” Severus squeezed a little harder, and drew him in a little closer, looking into his eyes. “Strong.” 

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, and Severus released him, and after a moment of hesitation, he went, as Severus knew he would. Harry always did what needed to be done. Or, at least, he did his best.

Severus watched the door close behind him, and hoped that he would do alright out in the castle. Surely he would. He would be with his friends again, and everything would be fine. He could come again in a few days, and Severus could start teaching him to calm himself. They could start easy. Just some breathing exercises. He would probably be excellent at it, just like he was at everything else. 

It would be fine. 

***

Harry did not even make it to his dormitory. Outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Ron and Ginny saw him, and froze. Harry stopped, too, and waved at them, a little awkwardly.

“Hi,” he said, bracing himself for a hug as Ron strode purposely over to him. But Ron did not hug him. 

Ron shoved him. Hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted. “You just LEFT!” 

“Ron!” Ginny cried, and seized his arm. “Hey!” 

Harry stumbled back and held up his hands. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.” 

_“Didn’t mean to,”_ Ron spat, wrenching his arm out of Ginny’s grasp to point into Harry’s face. She grabbed the back of his robes with both hands. “You made me lie to my own mother like that - ” He looked about ready to explode, and Harry backed away from him, on the very edge of calling Severus right now, only minutes after they’d separated. “And then. You just. LEFT?”

“Boys!!” the Fat Lady gasped. 

A crowd of other Gryffindors returning to the tower were coalescing around them, and Harry looked around, mortified. “Ron, please,” he began, “I’m sorry - Didn’t Dumbledore tell you - ”

“Tell me what? That you left with SNAPE? That he TOOK YOU?” 

“Ron - god - hit me if you want to, just please - stop talking - ”

“I keep _lying_ for you and you keep - ”

 _“PROTEGO!”_ Ron was knocked back as Hermione rounded the corner. “What is going on here?”

“Stay out of it, Hermione!” Ron shouted at her. 

“WON-WON!” It was Lavender. She inserted herself between Ron and Hermione and held up her wand. “Back off, Granger!” 

Hermione raised her wand, too. “Control your _boyfriend_ ,” she hissed. “He’s trying to start a _fight_.”

Harry just stood there, paralyzed, as Lavender swelled with rage. “You’re the one pointing your wand at him!”

“I’m pointing my wand at _you now,_ aren’t I?” Hermione shouted back, a charge of electricity crackling around her. 

“You’re _crazy_ ,” Lavender shrieked. 

The assembled Gryffindors looked back and forth between the two girls like they were watching a volleyball match. The attention off of him, Harry touched his bracelet.

 _Fight outside Gryffindor Tower,_ he thought. _Please send McGonagall._

It took less than a minute, but even so, the corridor was full of students by the time she appeared, and Lavender and Hermione were screaming at each other with their wands pointed straight at each other's throats. Harry had backed himself up against the wall, his eyes wide, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“What is the meaning of this?” Professor McGonagall demanded, brandishing her wand. “Girls! What is wrong with you?”

“Hermione tried to curse my boyfriend!” Lavender cried, throwing her arms around Ron.

“I was trying to break up a fight,” Hermione said, breathing hard. She drew herself up to her full height, trying to look authoritative, but the effect was lessened slightly by the fact that she was bright red and her wand was still pointed at the back of Lavender’s head. 

“What fight?” Minerva demanded. “And before term has even started! Merlin!”

“Ron was screaming at Harry,” Hermione said.

“Hermione tried to curse me!” Ron broke in. “Lavender was defending me!” 

“Oh, god,” Harry groaned, and covered his face. 

“The four of you!” McGonagall shouted over the din. “My office! NOW.”

***

“Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lavender were all seated before McGonagall’s desk. Lavender was clutching Ron’s hand, and Hermione was sitting back mutinously in her chair. Harry sat very straight, his hands clenched together in his lap, thinking - _Breathe. Breathe. It’s been fifteen minutes. You can handle this._

Hermione spoke first.

“I came to the portrait to see to it that everyone knew the new password,” she said. “And when I came around the corner I saw Ron shouting in Harry’s face. Ginny was trying to hold him back, so I cast _Protego_.” 

McGonagall turned to look at Ron, and raised her eyebrows. His rage seemed to have cooled somewhat, and he looked over at Harry.

“We had a problem over Christmas Holiday,” was all he said.

“Hermione was going to curse him!” Lavender screeched. Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Like he’s worth cursing,” she muttered. 

“Girls,” McGonagall interjected. They fell silent, and she turned to Harry.

“Potter?” she asked. 

“Uh. I think maybe you should talk to the Headmaster about this,” he said.

“Or _Snape_ ,” Ron interjected.

“Ronald,” Minerva scolded him.

“I’m surprised he didn’t come to rescue you,” Ron continued, disgusted, and Harry thought that maybe he hadn’t cooled off that much, after all. “Where’s Snape when you need him, huh? Just whisk you away to the _dungeons._ ” Lavender looked at Ron and then at Harry, interested. Harry shrank back into his seat.

“I really think the Headmaster should handle this,” he said again. 

“I’m not going to lie for you anymore, Harry,” Ron said. “Not ever again.”

“Ok,” Harry whispered. “I won’t ask you to. I’m sorry. Just please, stop.” Hermione was looking at him now, too. Ron threw himself back in his seat.

“You almost DIED,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Harry answered. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked. Harry looked at McGonagall, wishing desperately that she could read his mind.

“What’s going on?” Lavender said. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Minerva?” 

Harry’s heart dropped into his feet. It was Severus. Jesus. He touched his bracelet as surreptitiously as he could manage. _Please go away,_ he thought. _You’re going to make it worse._

“Come in, Severus,” Minerva said. The four students looked around as Snape entered the room. 

“Well LOOK WHO IT IS,” Ron cackled. “What a surprise.” Severus raised his eyebrows at him and then looked at Harry. Harry just put his hands back over his face. “Here to make Harry insane, are you?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Severus said.

“Take all the points you want,” Ron said, and stood up. Lavender clutched at him like she thought she could drag him back into his seat.

“Ron,” she squeaked. “What are you doing?” Ron shrugged her off, and Severus looked back at Harry. 

“Don’t you fucking look at him.”

“Weasley!” Minerva gasped. 

“You come around to my house and then my best friend tries to _kill himself,”_ Ron shouted. “And you take him away in the middle of the night? And you think _points_ matter?”

“I didn’t!” Harry gasped into his hands. “Ron, I didn’t, I didn’t - ” 

“Weasley, calm down,” Severus said. 

“No, I won’t,” Ron answered back. “You explain to me what is happening. EXPLAIN IT!”

“Ron - ” Hermione yelped. “What are you doing?”

Harry blinked hard as sparkles appeared at the edges of his vision, and then put his head between his knees to try to head it off. It didn’t help, not even a little bit, and he knew that he was hyperventilating, but couldn’t stop. _Come on, Harry. Control it. Control it control it CONTROL IT._

He couldn’t. He couldn’t control it.

“YOU FUCKING EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON!”

“RONALD!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Merlin, Ron - ”

“Harry?”

“Harry - ”

There was a sudden silence. Or, at least, all Harry could hear was a weird ringing in his ears.

All five of them stopped talking at once as Severus pushed Ron out of the way and crouched down beside Harry’s chair.

“Take them outside,” he said, meeting McGonagall’s eyes. “Minerva. Take them out.”

“Why?” Ron demanded. “What are you going to do to him?”

“What are _you_ trying to do to him?” Severus hissed, resting one hand on Harry’s back. And then Ron, looking down at them, suddenly turned chalk white. “I won’t take him anywhere. Just leave us for a moment, please.” Minerva stood up.

“Alright you three, outside in the corridor. Let’s go.” The girls got up to join Ron, and Severus looked up to see Hermione Granger staring at him. He glared fiercely back at her, trying to locate some of his old ability to terrify these people. He wasn’t sure how convincing it was with his palm resting on Harry’s back with such obvious protective intent, but there was no way to help that, and he certainly wasn’t going to take his hand away.

They filed out, and as the door swung shut, Severus sat on the floor and pulled Harry down into his lap. 

“Oh, Harry,” he whispered. “You didn’t even make it to your dorm, did you?” Harry buried his head into his chest and then shook it, _no_. Severus could feel his breathing, shallow and short. “Alright,” he began. “You’ve done this before. You know how. Inhale, count of three, exhale, count of five. Go on.” Harry made it to a two - three count, and Severus could feel what a struggle it was for him. This was what he needed to learn. This, right here. 

Severus stroked his hair, slowing his own breathing down for Harry to match. “That’s good, that’s good, Harry. Keep trying. Inhale for three, exhale for five. Very good.” It took a little while, but slowly, he began to succeed. “Yes. Very good. Now a four - six. That’s right. Breathe. Breathe.” Slowly, slowly, to a four - six, and then his hands came up to Severus’ shoulders. 

“I didn’t - even - make it through the portrait hole,” he said, with a weak little chuckle that sounded truly awful to Severus. 

“Your friends must care a lot about you to cause such a ruckus.”

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah.”

“Did he hit you?”

“No. He didn’t hit me.”

“Good.” Severus was glad he wouldn’t have to kill Ronald Weasley. That would complicate things. “Can you sit up?” Harry nodded again, and lifted his head. Severus took hold of it with both hands and looked into his eyes. They were dry, but very wide. “Strong,” he said. Harry blinked, and nodded, and Severus kissed his scar. “Strong. No fear.”

When Severus opened the door to let the others back in, Lavender Brown was standing in front of Weasley with her hands held out, and Minerva was holding on to Hermione Granger’s wand arm. Severus looked at the scene impassively. 

“You can come back in,” he said. And then he turned right back around, summoned another chair, set it next to Harry, and sat in it. He crossed his legs. The tension radiating off of Harry’s body was so excruciatingly intense that Severus, unable to touch him, felt like he was being run through with a pike. And not a very sharp one. He folded his hands together to control the urge, and glanced back at Harry, only to see that he was staring right back at him and hugging his own arms. Severus shook his head very slightly, _no,_ and Harry dropped his hands into his lap and looked at the floor, instead. 

The other students filed back into the office, one by one, and Minerva took up the rear. 

It was quite crowded. Severus wondered if there was some way to get rid of the spare. As far as he was aware, Lavender Brown had no business in this room. 

“Well,” he began, and looked at Minerva. “As I’ve always said, Gryffindor House holds all the worst tempers in the school.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Ron spat. 

Severus did not rise to this provocation. He just repeated to himself that Harry’s friends loved him, and that’s why they were acting like this. Irrational, and insane, for Harry. Just like he was.

“Mister Weasley, I will not have you address a Professor like that!” Minerva said. “Ten more points from Gryffindor.” Ron crossed his arms and sat back. 

“Fine,” he said, and looked at Harry. “Well?”

“I didn’t try to kill myself,” Harry whispered.

“That is bullshit, Harry, and you know it is.”

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “What happened?”

“Mister Potter suffered an accidental overdose over Christmas Holiday,” Severus said slowly. “He was quite ill.”

“Overdose?” Hermione asked. “Of what?”

“Dreamless Sleep,” Severus answered her.

“Dreamless Sleep? Where did you get _that?”_

“Snape gave it to him,” Ron interjected. “Harry has a whole case of it under his _bed_.”

“Severus?” Minerva asked, looking alarmed. Severus sighed, thinking that, at this moment, he would cut out his own eye to be able to hold Harry’s hand. 

“This has already been taken all the way to the Governors, Minerva,” he said. “You can ask the Headmaster, if you like. He might even show you the hearing, if you demand it.”

“The Governors?” Ron demanded, disgusted. “How are you still in the castle, then?”

“He was cleared,” Harry said. “I had to give a statement and everything. Your mum did, too. And Dumbledore.”

“My mum _WHAT?”_ Ron burst out, and then suddenly looked at Lavender as if only just now realizing she was there. He frowned, looking confused. And that was an opening for de-escalation if Severus had ever seen one. 

“Perhaps you would like to discuss this with me privately, Mr. Weasley,” he offered. Ron looked back at him, and then at Harry, and then at his hands. There was a long pause.

“I think I would like to discuss this privately, Professor Snape,” he said finally. His voice was stilted, and flat, almost like he was reading off a cue card. “Thank you.” Both girls looked at him. Lavender, looking relieved, but Hermione, positively shocked.

“Very good,” Severus said. “Perhaps we might move to my office.” He looked at Minerva. “Care to take any more points?” he asked.

“Well… No, I suppose not,” she began slowly. “As no one was injured. Off to the common room, you three. And see too it that you control your tempers, ladies. I am not above dropping my own house into negative numbers if it’s warranted.” They stood up. “Oh, and Potter,” Minerva began. “If you ever - need anything. You know my office hours.”

Harry gave her the best smile he could manage, but she just looked concerned, so he stopped trying to pretend. 

“Thanks, Professor McGonagall. I’ll keep it in mind.”


	13. Precious

Harry had to literally beg Hermione to let him go to his dormitory without being interrogated, but she finally relented on the condition that she could ask him whatever she wanted later. And the way she looked at him when she let him go gave him the impression that she was afraid of upsetting him, so he used it to his advantage. He wanted to escape, and if his _fragile constitution_ allowed him to, fine. Let her think he was on the brink of collapse, like everyone else did.

Up in the boy’s dormitory he closed himself in the curtains. It was empty, thank god - It was still very early in the day, and the idea of speaking to a single soul sounded unbearable. He felt pretty shaky, actually, so when he laid down, he put his pillow over his head. 

He stayed like that for a while - almost an hour - before his bracelet warmed.

 _[He’s coming back, now]_ appeared.

_What’s he going to do?_

_[Cry, probably]_

_What did you tell him?_

_[Oh, the usual. Some full truth, some half truth, and a lot of lies]_

_Ok,_ Harry thought.

_[Are you alright?]_

_Yeah._

_[I don’t want you to be surprised again. I took your Dreamless Sleep]_

_What?_

Harry looked under his bed. The case was gone. 

_[You can still have it. Just one at a time]_

_No one believes me. Not even you._

_[I believe you. But I also know you]_

Harry thought about that, and imagined that if he had a case of Dreamless Sleep at his disposal right now, he might take ten.

 _Fine,_ he thought back. _Fine._

Harry jumped to his feet as the door creaked open. It was Ron, as Severus had said, and when he came in, he stopped in the entry and held out his hands like he was approaching a wounded animal. 

“Harry,” he said softly. “Mate. I almost hit you.”

“Yeah, almost,” Harry answered, trying hard to give him a grin. “It’s ok.” Ron walked slowly over to him, and then, after a moment's hesitation, opened his arms. Harry didn’t really want to hug him, but he did anyway, just relieved that Ron didn’t want to shout anymore. Whatever Severus had told him must have been pretty convincing. 

“I’m really sorry,” Ron breathed. “You scared me. I just - I thought - I dunno.”

“It’s ok,” Harry said again. “I’m sorry, too. I tried to ask Dumbledore to tell you why I had to leave - I guess he didn’t do a very good job.”

“I don’t think I was really listening,” Ron answered. 

“Lupin flipped out. I had to go.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - jump you like that.” Ron released him, and Harry saw that his eyes were red. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s ok. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You say that a lot,” Ron answered with an unconvincing smile. It looked more like he’d been stabbed, really. 

“I mean it, though,” Harry said. “I’m ok. And - ” he hesitated, but then went ahead. “Snape took my Dreamless Sleep away. I don’t think he’s too pleased with me, either.”

***

When Harry reported to Dumbledore’s office that evening at eight, the lamps were lit, the portraits of previous Headmasters were slumbering gently in their frames, and the pensieve was ready on his desk. Fawkes rustled his feathers, and Harry smiled a little at him as he sat down, and then looked at his shoes.

“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I heard you’ve had a rather mixed reception by your housemates.”

“Not really mixed,” Harry answered. “Mostly just bad.”

“Severus informed me that my explanation to Ronald Weasley as to your early departure from the Burrow was somewhat less than satisfactory.”

“I think he was just scared.”

“Understandable.” Albus paused, and Harry looked back up at him. “And how are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Harry answered. “A little tired, I suppose.”

“Well then, we might start right away, so that you can retire early.”

Harry had expected more questions, but Dumbledore didn’t ask anything else. It was a relief, actually. It was good to just listen for a while, even if he was listening to stories about Voldemort’s weird, violent childhood. 

Dumbledore told him about Tom Riddle’s first few weeks at school, and how beloved he became almost at once. He was handsome, and quiet, and hard-working, and an orphan - and the staff were almost all quite favorably impressed by him. Harry was rather struck by the notion that Tom Riddle sounded a lot like himself, only better. A lot better - at least on the surface. And then, Dumbledore told him about the early Deatheaters, Riddle’s “friends.” He told him how, under Riddle’s control, none of them were ever linked to any of the many nasty incidents at school during his tenure. Harry knew some of this already - thinking of Hagrid being unfairly expelled for opening the Chamber of Secrets. And then Dumbledore told him about Riddle’s discovery of his Slytherin heritage, and showed him Morfin’s memory of the young Voldemort appearing in his hovel. 

Tom Riddle, not much older than Harry was now, had stolen Morfin’s wand, and used it to murder his own father. Harry was horrified. And then he was even more horrified to see the next memory - Riddle in the _Slug Club_ , flattering Slughorn himself with his cronies all around him, with Marvolo’s ring on his finger. At Hogwarts. A murderer. And then the question - “I wonder what you know about Horcruxes?” and the white fog. 

“And so,” Dumbledore said. “For the first time I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all.”

Harry stared at him.

What?

How in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do that?

***

Harry tried to sleep in his four-poster. He really did. But he couldn’t turn off his brain. It just kept circling around - Ron, and Hermione, and Lavender, and McGonagall, and Severus, and Dumbledore, and Tom Riddle, and Slughorn, and Horcruxes. And what even were Horcruxes? Was he supposed to know? And what was he supposed to do with Slughorn? Trick him? Charm him? Enchant him? And Lavender had heard a _lot._ Surely in the morning the whole school would be talking about Poor Harry Potter trying to kill himself. And Ron had said, “with SNAPE,” really loud out in the corridor. And what had Severus even told Ron to make him cry? And what about Hermione? What was Harry going to tell _her?_ And what about the Dreamless Sleep? He didn’t have _anything._ He was fucking alone, undefended, unmedicated, in Gryffindor Tower. For how long? Classes hadn’t even started yet. He was facing months and months of people all around him, watching him. Staring at him. Asking him questions and expecting him to be able to _do things._ And, god, having to be in class with Severus pretending that he was just a teacher. A teacher Harry was supposed to _despise_. After everything, he still had to do _that_.

At half-past midnight he asked to be called down, and Severus called him, and he appeared beside the bed, where Severus was reclining with his shoes off. 

“Good evening, Harry,” he said. “It’s quite late.”

“I want the switch,” Harry said. Severus straightened a little against the headboard.

“The switch?” he asked. “No.”

“Please.”

“No,” he said again, and swung his legs off the edge of the bed to sit. “I categorically refuse to hit you tonight.”

“Why?” Harry asked, suddenly realizing how anxious he was, as his anxiety abruptly doubled. _Tripled._ What did he mean, _no?_ “I - really want it.”

“I will not. Your body cannot handle anymore stress today. Come here.” Severus beckoned, and Harry moved to stand in front of him.

“But - it’s not stressful.”

“Yes it is.” Severus brushed his hand down Harry’s arm and to his wrist, and lifted it to his lips. “Just because it’s what you want doesn’t mean it isn’t pouring adrenaline into your bloodstream. After what happened this morning you need to rest.”

“I can’t.” Severus looked into his eyes and his eyebrows drew down. Harry wondered if he looked unwell. He felt pretty… not good. “I can’t.”

“Would you like a Dreamless Sleep?”

“No. I don’t want that. I want the switch.”

Severus looked down at his hand and brushed his thumb gently over the back of it, thinking. “Maybe we can make a deal, then,” he began. “If you’ll let me, I will do my best to give you what you need without hurting you. And if I fail, then I’ll give you what you want.” 

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, and shifted back. Severus nudged him a bit further and stood up.

“You just aren’t used to it,” he said. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I mean - yeah. I guess.”

“Then give me a chance. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

Severus went into the bathroom and came out with a bath towel and a bottle, and bade Harry take off his clothes and glasses. Then, he laid the towel on the bed, and told Harry to lay down on his stomach.

“Are you cold?” Severus asked, looking down at him. He had his ankles crossed and his arms in tight by his sides.

“A little bit,” Harry breathed. 

Severus cast a warming charm on him. “It’s quite unusual how much more fear you exhibit when I’m _not_ going to hurt you.” 

Harry heard him casting another warming charm, and then doing something with the bottle. 

“Well, I don’t know what you’re doing, do I?” And then he thought maybe he did know, as Severus poured a stream of warm oil onto his skin. 

“Have you ever had a massage?” he asked, and swept his open palms down the lines of Harry’s back, spreading the oil around.

“No,” Harry whispered back. “Never.” He tried hard not to tense up, but he couldn’t control it. He hoped Severus wouldn’t be irritated. 

Of course Harry had never had a massage. Who would have given him one? Or bought him one? And he’d probably never been taken out to dinner, or shopping, or to the sea, or to the mountains, or to the city, or to the tropics. He’d probably never been to the theater, or to a concert, or to a hotel. Just his muggle hovel, and Hogwarts, and the Burrow, and Hogsmede, and Diagon Alley. And that was it.

Harry went rigid under his hands, but Severus did not change what he was doing. “It’s alright,” he said, sliding his palms up and down Harry’s back with long, smooth strokes, from his shoulders all the way to his hips. “Just let it be what it is. And if you tell me to stop, I will.”

“Ok,” Harry said. 

His body was full of tension - much more than was usual for a teenager, certainly, and Severus took his time, starting very gently, almost just petting him, until Harry began to relax. It took a while, and it was incremental at first, but then finally, finally, he melted.

By that time, Severus had moved on from his long, light strokes, to more targeted ones. Kneading the tight muscles of his shoulders, and drawing his thumbs down either side of his spine. Pressing in between his shoulder blades, and up against the base of his skull. 

“Is the pressure alright?” he asked, working his elbows into the knots he found until they started to dissolve. Harry made a sort of vague humming noise and twitched the fingers of one hand. It seemed like a yes. 

Severus worked over his back and shoulders for a long time before moving on to his legs, and Harry gasped as Severus squeezed his calves, and drew his thumbs down the centers of them, and then moaned aloud as he directed his attention to the soles of his feet. He took his time there, too, bending one leg at a time to more easily press into the balls of his feet and his arches, and tugging gently on each of his toes.

“How come you can do this?” Harry murmured. Severus glanced up at his face, turned to the side. His lips were parted, and his eyes were closed.

“Oh, it’s just anatomy,” Severus answered quietly, laying his foot back down. “Just following the lines, that’s all.”

“Mmh,” Harry said. 

Severus moved back up his legs, to his hamstrings and glutes, using his elbows again, and the heels of his palms, and drawing out a truly rapturous groan from Harry’s mouth. And then to his arms - working his thumbs his deltoids, his biceps, and forearms, and the palms of his hands, and then pressing on the pads of his fingers, one by one. And then, just as he was about to ask Harry to turn over, Severus saw that he had fallen sound asleep. 

And Harry thought he wanted the _switch_. 

He had so much to learn.

Severus had so much to teach him.

Severus laid another towel over him to absorb any excess oil, and then a blanket on top, and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Harry did not wake up when he came back, or when he turned out the light. And Severus slept, too, after a while, listening to the slow, even cadence of his breath and thinking about all the other things Harry had probably never done. All the little bits of life he’d never experienced. 

He imagined Harry picking fruit from a tree. Swimming in the ocean. Buying hot mulled wine from a cart, or getting ice cream on his nose. Just doing things. And not amazing things, either, but regular ones. Not saving the world, or running a basilisk through with a sword, or outsmarting a dragon. Just… going for a walk on a warm summer night, and looking into shop windows, and maybe dragging Severus into one of them by the hand. A sweet shop, maybe. Or Quidditch supplies. And Severus could pretend to be annoyed. 

***

Some time in the night, Harry woke up, went to the bathroom, got rid of the towels, and got properly into bed. It was his hand sliding across Severus’ chest under the sheets that woke Severus up, too. 

“Mm?” he murmured. “Did something happen?” He hadn’t really been awake when he asked that, but he woke up pretty fast, after.

“Make love to me,” Harry whispered into the dark. Severus’ eyes snapped open.

“What?” he asked.

“Make love to me,” Harry repeated, and Severus felt his slow exhale across his skin, and then Harry’s hands coaxing him onto his side. He obeyed their gentle tug, and turned to face him.

“I don’t want to upset you,” he said quietly, and Harry leaned closer, almost kissing him, but not quite.

“I want you to,” he whispered. “I wasn’t ready, before, but I think I am now.”

“You should sleep.”

“I will, after, I promise.” 

In the dark. When Severus could not see his face. That was when he liked to tell the truth, wasn’t it? To talk about hard things. Less vulnerable. Less frightening to open up, in the dark. 

“Is that what you want? Or is it what you think I want?”

“I want it,” Harry answered. “I hope you want it, too.”

“I do,” Severus breathed back. “I do.”

“It’s what I’m asking for.” 

Harry closed the gap, and Severus was forcefully reminded of having Harry in his bed, months ago. Drunk, and upset, and needing him so desperately. Severus had told him no that night. And in telling him no, had realized - 

“I love you,” Severus whispered against his lips, and moved to lie over him. 

“Say it a hundred times,” Harry answered, and Severus summoned his wand to his hand.

“A thousand times would not be half enough,” he said, and Harry gave a little gasp, as he always did, at the warm tingle of the lubrication. “A hundred thousand. A million,” Severus continued, coaxing his knees up, and his legs a little further apart. “I’ll spend my life telling you, if you’ll let me.” Harry turned his face away, and Severus turned it back to center. “Strong,” he said. “No fear.”

“No fear,” Harry whispered back, and Severus pressed their mouths together as he circled his thumb around Harry’s entrance, and pressed inside. He breathed in the soft whimper that came out of him, and after a moment, withdrew his hand, and spread him open, and began to penetrate him. So slowly - slow enough that Severus himself gave a little gasp, and shuddered hard, and Harry felt it, and reached up to pull him closer. “You do love me,” he whispered.

“Oh, I love you,” Severus said again, settling in to the hilt.

“Why?”

“Because.” He began to move, bearing his weight on one arm, cupping Harry’s face with the other. “You deserve to be loved.” Harry whimpered again, and Severus could not tell what made him do it - if it was his words, or what he was doing with his body. Without being able to see him, it was impossible to know. But he didn’t sound like he was in pain, so he supposed it didn’t matter. “You deserve all the love in the world.”

 _“Severus,”_ Harry moaned, and Severus moved the hand from his face to tilt his hips up a little. “Oh, _god.”_

“Mmm,” Severus answered. “I could listen to that forever.” And then Harry said his name again, and Severus was struck with a sudden, intense need _._ “Can I have the light?” he asked, rocking his hips - rhythmic, steady, slow, and sweet. “Can I see you? Please - let me look at you.” One of Harry’s hands moved from his shoulders and into the air, and then there was light. Dim, and warm, like coals in a banked fire, and Harry’s eyes were closed, but that was alright. Severus couldn’t demand too much of him. “Oh, Harry,” he breathed. “Merlin, you’re so - ” he gasped again, and Harry gasped too, at the sound - “You’re so _beautiful._ ”

“Too much,” Harry whispered, “that’s too much - ”

“I’m sorry,” Severus dropped his head a little, until their foreheads were pressed together. “It’s just - _true._ I’m sorry - do you - want me to stop?”

 _“No -_ don’t stop.” 

“You can put it out,” Severus said, “it’s alright. Dark. Dark.” The light went out, and Severus pressed a kiss to Harry’s scar, and then to his shoulder, and Harry’s legs drew up around him and squeezed him in tighter.

“Let’s just go,” he said. “Let’s just _leave-”_

“Yes,” Severus answered. “I’ll take you anywhere. _God.”_ Underneath him, Harry whimpered again, and Severus pressed closer, bracing one hand beside Harry’s head, and using the other to touch him, down his throat, and sternum, and his abdomen, and between them, to his cock. Harry cried out, louder, and turned his face towards Severus’ wrist. His breath was so hot, and so _alive._ Vibrant, like sunshine - like standing too close to an _oven_. “Just tell me when, and I’ll take you.”

“I love you,” Harry moaned. “I love you. I love you.” 

Severus’ mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he made use of it, pressing his parted lips to Harry’s chest, and then his neck. And right then, he knew why Harry had shied away from this. The passion, the love, the _pain_ was so strong, that it could hardly be borne. 

“Give in,” he said, moving his hand a little faster. “Give in to me, come on, let go-”

“Kiss me,” Harry gasped, and Severus did - deep, and intense, but almost cruelly slow, and Harry’s hands tightened on him - and maybe Severus came first. But if he did, he was able to keep moving until Harry did, too. Moaning his name, and digging his fingers into his shoulders, and then there was a new light in the room. Severus saw it through his closed eyelids, and opened them to see. It was like little glowing stars, suspended in the air around them, and then falling - so slowly - to the floor. And they didn’t extinguish at once, but stayed there, glowing against the carpet, and for a moment, in their light, Severus could see him. In his bliss, his euphoria, he was almost luminous himself, and Severus thought again, as he had thought before what felt like hundreds of times, that he would give his life for this boy. This young man. His precious Potter. His Harry - the whole reason for his existence. 

He would give his life, if he could. If anyone ever gave him the chance, he would take it. And if there was any way to save him, in heaven or on earth, he would find it. And if there was no way, that was alright, too, he supposed. Because if Harry had to die, then Severus would go with him. He didn’t have to go alone. Not really.

They could go together.

Into the dark.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


End of Part 2

(click next chapter for art)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me for:
> 
> Pacify Part 3: Solace


	14. Bonus Art Page: Wizard Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and his Wizard Prince


	15. Bonus Art Page 2: He Didn't Mean it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, you can't go to the Burrow like that.


	16. Bonus Art Page 3: He doesn't like softness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It frightens him. 
> 
> Being loved.


End file.
